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t 

I THE 



Pilgrim's Progress. 



By JOHN BUNYAN. 



! l\TTTT\/rDi7r> O I Annrr 1'. 1 ^^1 ' SUBSCRIPTION PRICE, 

I IN UMBER Z I April lo, IsM. j PER YEAR, $3.(k». 






FARM AND FIRESIDE LIBRARY. I 

«>■ Copyrighted, 1881, by Farm and Fireside Co. 

^ i 



t 



, PUBLISHED BY FARM AND FIRESIDE CO., SPRINGFIELD, OHIO. t 

t t 

<^ Eiitered at the Post-Office at Springfield, Ohio, as second-class mail matter. 



THE 



Pilgrim's Progress 



FROM 



THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. 



DELIVERED UNDER THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. 



By John Bunyan. 



0^ll^r.r^^,'>i^ 



rOOT 261882 J, 



^OFWASHIV^O^'' 



SPRINGFIELD, OHIO: 

FARM AND FIRESIDE COMPANY. 

1881. 






THE 



AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 



FOR HJS BOOK. 



When at first I took my pen in hand 

Thus for to write, I did not understand 

That I at all should make a little book 

In such a mode : nay, I had undertook 

To make another ; which, when almost done, 

Before I was aware, I this begun. 

And thus it was : I, writing of the way 
And race of saints in this our gospel day, 
Fell suddenly into an allegory 
About their journey, ana the way to glory, 
In more thau twenty things which I set down; 
This done, I twenty more had in my crown ; 
And they again began to multiply, 
Like sparks that from the coals of tire do fly. 
Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast, 
I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last 
Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out 
The book that I already am about. 
Well, so I did ; but yet I did not think 
To show to all the world my pen and ink 
In such a mode : I only thought to make 
I knew not what : nor did I undertake 
Thereby to please my neighbor; no, not I; 
I did it my own selt to gratify. 

Neither did I but vacant seasons spend 
In this my scribble ; nor did I intend 
But to divert myself, in doing this, 
From worser thoughts which make me do amiss. 
Thus I set pen to paper with delight. 
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white: 
For having now my method by the end, 
Still as I pull d, it came; and so I penn'd 
It down ; until at last it came to be, 
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see. 

Well, when I had thus put my ends togeth-^r, 
I show'd them others, that I might see wheilwer 
They would condemn ihem, or them justify ; 
And some said, Let them live ; some, Let them die; 
Some said, John, print it ; others said, Not so; 
Some said it might do good ; others said, No. 

Now I was in a strait, and did not see 
Which was the best thing to be done by me: 
At last I thougiit, since ye are thus divided, 
I print it will ; and so the case decided. 

For, thought I, some, I see, would have it don0, 
Though others in that channel do not run ; 



THE AUTHOR^S APOLOaY. 

To prove, then, who advised for the best, 
Thus I I hough L tit to put it to thetjst. 

I further thonjfht, if now I did deny 
Those that wou'd nave it, thus to gratify; 
I did not know, but hinder ihem I might 
Of that which would to them be great deiight: 
For those which were not for its coming forth, 
I said to them. Offend you, I am loth ; 
Yet since your broihren pie. sett wi.h it be, 
Forbear to' judge, till you do further see. 

If that thou wilt not read, let it alone ; 
Some love the meat, s ime love to pick a bone. 
Yea, that I might them better modv rate, 
I did, too, with taem thus expostulate: 

May I not write in such a style as this? 
In such a method, too, and yet not mi^s 
My end, thy good? Why may it not be done? 
Dark clouds bring waters, when the brignt bring noii& 
Yea, dark or bright, if they ti.eir silver drops 
Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops. 
Gives praise to both, and caipeth not at either, 
But treasures up the fruit tht-y yield together ; 
Yea, so commixes both, that in their fruit 
None can di:^tinguish this from that ; they suit 
Her well when hungry ; but if she be full. 
She spews out both, and m..kes their blessing nulL 

You see the ways the fisherman doth take 
To catch the fish ; what engines doth he make? 
Behold ! how he engageth all his wits ; 
Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks and nets: 
Yet fish there be, that neither hook, nor line, 
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make tume: 
They must be groped for, and be tickled too. 
Or they will not be catch'd, whate'er you do. 

How does the I'owler seek to catch his game 
By divers means! all which one cannot name. 
His gun, his nets, his lime-twigs, light and bell : 
He creeps, he goes, he stands : yea, who cau tell 
Of all his postures ? yet, there's none of these 
Will make him master of what fowls he please. 
Yea, he must pipe and whistle to catch tiiis ; 
Yet, if he does, that bird he will so miss. 
If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell. 
And may be found, too, in an oyster-shell ; 
If things that promise nothing, do contain 
What better is than gold ; who will disdain. 
That have an inkling of it, there to look, 
That they may find it? Now, my little book 
(Though void of all these paintings that may make 
It With this or the other man to take) 
Is not without those things that do excel. 
What do in brave but empty notions dwell. 

Well, yet I am notftiUy satisfied. 
That this your book will stand, when soundly tried. 

Why, what's the matter ? It is dark : What though ? 
But it is feigned : What of that? 1 tiow. 
Some men by feigned words as dark as mine, 
Make truth to spangle, and its rays to shine ; 
But they want solidness : speak, man, thy mind; 
They drown the weak ; metaphors make us blind. 

Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen 
Of him that writeth things divine to men: 
But must I needs want solidness, because 
But metaphors I speak ? Were not God's laws, 
His gospel-laws, in older times held forth 
By, types, shadows and metapht rs? Yet loth 
Will SkUy sober man be to find fault 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. iii 

With them, lest he he found for to assault 

The highest wisdom : no, he rather stoops, 
And seeks to find out by what pins and loopfl, 
By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams, 
By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs, 
God speaketh to him ; and full happy he 
That finds the light and grace that in them be. 

Be not too forward, therefore, to conclude 
That 1 want solidness ; that I am rude : 
All things solid in show, not solid be ; 
All things in parables despise not we ; 
Let tilings most hurtful, lightly we receive ; 
And things that good are, ot our souls bereave. 

My dark and cloudy words they do but hold 
The truth, as cabinets inclose the gold. 

The prophets used much by metaphors 
To set forth truth : yea, who so considers 
Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see, 
That truths to this day in such mantles be. 

I'm not afraid to say. That Holy Writ, 
Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit. 
Is everywhere so firll of all these tilings 
(Daik figures, all goties), \et there springs 
From that same book, that lus er and taose rays 
Of i.ght, that turns our darkest nights to days. 

Come, let my carper to his life now look, 
And find there darke lines ihan in i y book 
He imueth iiny ; yea, and Jet him know, 
That in his best things ihere are woise lines too. 

May we but stand before impartial men, 
To his po(jr one I dare adventure ten. 
That they will take my meaning in these lines 
Far better than his lies in silver shrme . 
Come, truth, althou h in swaddling clouts, 1 find, 
Iniorms the jud.me- t, reeiifies the mi.n: ; 
Pleases tiie understanding, ma^es the will 
Submit, the memory too ii doih till 
A\ ith what doth our i.naginations please; 
Likewise it tends oui troubks to appease; 

Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use, 
And old wives' tables he is to re. us ; 
But > et grave Pa .1 him nowher did lorbid 
Ihe u e 01 parables, in winch lay hid 
That gold, tiiose pearls, and pr ci'ous stones ih"t \vo:e 
Worth digging for, and that wita greatest cuie. 

Let me add one word more, oh, man of God I 
Ar thou ofiended? iJost ti-ou wish 1 h d 
Pu( forth my matter in another d ess? 
Oi, that I had in thing< been more express? 
To those that are my betters (as is tit). 
Three things let me propound, then i submit. 

1. I find not that I am denied the use 
Of this my inetnod, so I no abuse 

Put on the word, tnings, leaders, or be rude 
In band.ing figure, or similitude, 
In applicati(jn ; but ail that I may, 
S ek the advance of truth this or that way. 
Denied, did I say ? Nay, I h ive leave 
(Examples lOo, and that fr' m them tnat have 
God better pleased by their words or ways. 
Than any man that breatheth n(.w-a-days) 
Thus to express my mind, thus to dec. are 
Things unto thee that excellentest are. 

2. I find that men (as high as trees) will write 
Dialogue-wise j yet no man doth them slight 



THE AUTHOR'^ APOLOGY. 

For writing so. Indeed, if they abuse 
Truth, cursed be thev, and the craft they use 
To that intent ; but yet let truth be free 
To make her sallies upon thee and me, 
Which way it pleases God : for who knows how, 
Better than he that taught us first to plough, 
To guide our rainds and pens for his design ? 
And he makes base things usher in divine. 

3. I find that Holy Writ, in many places, 
Hath semblance with this method, where the case.'? 
Do call for one thing to set forth another ; 
Use it I may then, and yet nothing smother 
Truth's golden beams: nay, by this method may 
Make it cast forth its rays as light as day. 

And now, before I do put up my pen, 
I'll show the profits of my book, and then 
Commit both thee and it unto that hand 
That pulla the strong down, and makes weak ones stand. 

This book it cbalketh out before tlwne eyes 
The man that seeks the everlasting prize: 
It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes; 
What he leaves undone ; also what he docs ; 
It also shows you how he runs, and runs, 
Till he unto the gate of glory comes. 

It shows, too, who set out for life amain, 
As if the lasting crown they would obtain. 
Here also you may see the reason why 
Jhey lose their labor, and like fools do die. 

This book will make a traveler of thee, 
If by its counsel ihoii wilt ruled be; 
It will direct thee to the Holy Land, 
If thou wilt its directions understand : 
Yea, it will make the slothful active be; 
The blind, also, delightful things to see. 

Art thou for something rare and profitable? 
Would'st thou see a truth within a fabler"? 
Art thou forgetful ? Wouldest thou remember 
From New-year's day to the last of December ? 
Then read my fancies, they will stick like burrs, 
And may be to the helpless comforters. 

This book is writ in such a dialect 
As may the minds of listless men affect: 
It seems a novelty, and yet contains 
Nothing but sound and honest gospel-strains. 

Would'st thou divert thyself from melancholy? 
Would'st thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly ? 
Would'st thou read riddles and their explanation? 
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation ? 
Post thou love picking meat ? Or woulds't thou see 
A man i' th' clouds, and hear him speak to thee ? 
Would'st thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep ? 
Or would'st thou in a moment laugh and weep ? 
Or would'st thou lose thyself, and catch no harm, 
And find thyself again without a charm ? 
Would'st read thyself, and read thou know'st not what, 
And yet know whether thou art blessed or not, 
By reading the same lines? Oh, then, come hither, 
And lay my book, thjr head and heart together. 

JOHN ]3UNYAN, 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 



FROM 



This World to That which is to Come. 

DELIVERED UNDER THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. 



PART I. 

WHEREIN ARE DISCOVERED THE MANNER OF *[IS SETTING OUT; HIS DANGEROUS 
JOURNEY; AND SAFE ARRIVAL AT THE DESIRED COUNTRY. 



THE FJ-KST STAGE. 

As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certatn place where 
was a den, and laid me down in that place to sleep; and as I slept, I dreamed a 
dream. 1 dreamed, and, behold, I saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a certain 
place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon 
his back. (Isaiah Ixiv. 5; Luke xiv. 33; Psalm xxxvviii. 4; Hab. ii. 2.) I looked, and 
saw him open the book, and read therein; and, as he read, he wept and trembled; and, 
not being able longer to contain, he broke out with a lamentable cry, saying, "What 
shall I do?" (Acts ii. 37.) 

" This jail to us is as a hill, 
From whence we plainly see 
Beyond this world, and take of our fill 
Of things that lasting be. 
"NVe change our dross and dust for gold; 
From death to life we flee; 
We let go shadows and take hold 
Of Immortality! 

For though men keep my outward man 
Within their holts and bais, 
Yet, by the faith of Christ, I can 
Mount higher than the sta7's, 
Their fetters cannot spirits tame, 
Nor tie up God from me ; 
My faith and hope they cannot lame, 
Above them— I shall be ! 
I answer, — jails are Jesus' schools; 
In them we learn to die." 

Bunyan's Prison Thoughts. 

In this plight, therefore, he went home, and restrained himself as long as he could, 
that his wife and children should not perceive his distress; but he could not be silent 
long, because that his trouble increased. Wherefore, at length, he broke his mind to 
his wife and children ; and thus he began to talk to them : Oh, my dear wife, said he, 
and you, the children of my bowels, I, your dear friend, am in myself undone by reason 
of a great burden that lieth hard upon me; moreover, I am certainly informed that 
this our city will be burnt with fire from heaven ; in which fearful overthrow, both 
myself, with thee, my wife, and you, my sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin, ex- 
cept (the which yet I see not) some way of escape can be found, whereby we may be 
delivered. At this his relations were sore amazed ; not for that they believed that what 
he said to them was true, but because they thought some frenzied distemper had got into 
his head-; therefore, it drawing toward night, and they hoping that sleep might settle 
his brain, with all haste they got him to bed. But the night was as troublesome to him 
as the day; wherefore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. So when 



6 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

the morning was come, they would know how he did. He told them, worse and worse. 
He also set to talking to them again; but they began to be hardened. They also 
thought to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly carriage to him; sometimes 
they would deride, sometimes they would chide, and sometimes they would quite neg- 
lect him. Wherefore he began to retire himself to his chamber, to pray for and pity 
them, and also to condole his own misery; he would also walk solitariiy in the fields, 
sometimes reading, and sometimes praying; and thus for some days he spent his 
time. 

Now I saw upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, that he was (as he was 
wont) reading in his book, and greatly distressed in his mind; and as he read, he burst 
out, as he had done before, crying, " What shall I do to be saved?" (Acts xvi. 30, 31.) 

I saw also that he looked this way, and that way, as if he would run; yet he stood 
still because (as I perceived) he could not tell which Avay to go. I looked then and saw 
a man named Evangelist coming to him, who asked, Wnerefore dost thou cry? 

13fi answered, Sir, I percieve by the book in my hand that I am condemned to die, 
and after that to come to jiidsrement; and I find that I am not willini:^ to do the first, 
nor able to do the second. * (Heb. ix. 27; Job svi. 21, 22; Ezek. xxii. 14.) 

Then said Evangelist, Why not willing to die, since ths life is attended with so many 
evils? The man answered, Because 4 fear that this burden that is upon my back will 
sink me lower than the grave, and I shall fall into Tophet. (Isaiah xxx. 33.) And, 
sir, if I be not fit to go to prison, I am not fit to go to judgment, and irom thence to 
execution ; and the thoughts of these things make me cry. 

Then said Evangelist, If this be thy condition, why standest thou still? He answer- 
ed. Because I know not whither to go. Then he gave him a parchmtnt-roll; and there 
was written within, ''Fly irom the wrath to come." (Matt. ii. 7.) 

The man therefore read it, and looking upon Evangelist very carefully, said, WTiith- 
er must I fly? Then said Evangelist, pointing w.th his finger over a very wide field, 
Do you see yonder wicket-gate? (Matt. vii. 13, 14.) The man said, No. Then said the 
other, Do you see yonder shining lisht? (P.<a. cxix. 105; II. Pet. i. lO.) He said, I think 
i do. Then said Evangelist, Keep that light in your eye, and go up directly thereto, 
so shalt thou see the gate ; at which when thou knockest it shall be told thee ^Wiat 
thou shalt do. So I saw in my dream that the man began to run. Now, he had not 
run far from his OAvn door, when his wife and children (perceiving it) began to cry 
lifter him to return (Luke xiv. 26); but the mai: put his fingers in his ears, and ran on, 
crying, 'Life! life! Eternal life!' So he looked not behind him (Gen. xix. 17), but fled 
toward the middle of the plain. 

The neighbors also came out to see him run; and, as he ran, some mocked, others 
threatened, and some cried after him to return ; and among those that did so, there were 
two that resolved to fetch him back by force. The name of the one was Ohstinate, and 
the name of the other Pliable. Now, by this time the man had got a good aistaiice 
from them; but, however, ihey were resolved to pursue him; which they did, and in 
a little time they overtook him. Then said the man, Neighbors, wherefore are you come? 
They said. To pursuade you to go back with us. But he said. That can by no means be. 
You dwell, said he, in the city of Destruction; the place also where I was born ; 1 see 
it to be so; and dying there, sooner or later, you will sink lower than the grave, into a 
place that burns witn fire and brimstone; be content good neighbors, and go along 
with me. 

Obs. What, said Obstinate, and leave our friends and comforts behind us? 

Chr. Yes, said Christian (for that was his name), becaus^^ that all which you shall for- 
sake is not Avorthy to be compared with a little of tiiat which I am seeking t> enjoy 
i^II. Cor. iv. 18); and if you willgo along with me, andhold it, you shall fare as I myseli; 
for there where I go is enough and to spare. (Luke xv. 17.) Come away and prove my 
words. 

Obs. What are the things you seek, since you leave all the world to find them? 

CllR. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away; and 
it is laid up in heaven (I. Pet. i. 4-6; Heb. xi. 6, 16), and safe there, to be bestowed, 
at the time appointed, on them that diligently seek it. * Read it so, if you will, in my 
book. 

Obs. Tush, said Obstinate, away with your book; will you go back with us or no? 

CiiR. No, not I, said the other, because I have laid mv hand to the plow. (Luke 
ix. 62.) 

Obs. Come, then, neighbor Pliable, let us turn again, and go home without him; 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 7 

there is a company of these crazy-headed coxcombs, that, when they take a fancy by 
the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven men that can render a reason. 

Pli. Tlien said Pliable, Don't revile; if what good Christian says is true, the things 
he looks alter are better than ours ; my heart inclines to go with my neighbor. 

Obs. AVhat! more fools still! Be ruled by me, and go back; who knows whither 
such a brain-sick fellow will lead you ? Go back, go back, and be wise. 

Chr. Nay, but do not come with thy neighbor Pliable; there are such things to be 
had which 1 spoke of, and many more glories besides. If you believe not me, read 
here in this book; and for the truth of what is expressed therein, behold, all is con- 
firmed by the blood of Him that made it. (Heb. ix. 17-22.) 

Pli. Well, neighbor Obstinate, said Pliaule, 1 begin to come to a point; I intend to 
go along with this good man, and to cast in my lot with him ; but my good companion, do 
you know the way to this desired place? 

Chr. I am directed by a man, whose name is Evangelist, to speed me to a little gate 
that is before us, where we shall receive instruction about the way. 

Pli. Come, then, good neighbor, let us be going. Then they went both together. 

Obs. And I will go back to my place, said Obstinate; I will be no companion of 
such misled, fantastical fellows. 

Now I saw in my dream that when Obstinate was gone back, Christian and Pliable 
vrent talking over the plain; and thus they began their discourse. 

Chr. Come, neighbor Pliable, how do you do ? I am glad you are pursuaded to go 
along with me. Had even Obstinate himself but felt whatl have felt of the powers and 
terrors of what is yet unseen, he would not thus lightly have given us the back. 

Pli. Come, neighbor Christian, since there are none but us two here, tell me now 
further what the things are, and how to be enjoyed, v.hither we are going? 

Chr. I can better conceive of them with my mind than speak of them with my 
tongue; but yet, since you are desirous to know, I will read of them in my book, 

Pli. And do you think that the words of your book are certainly true? 

Chr. Yes, verily; for it was made by Him* that cannot lie. (Titll i. 2.) 

Pli. Well said; what things are thgy ? 

Chr. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, and everlasting life to be given 
us, that we may inhabit that kingdom forever. (Isa. Ixv. 17 ; John x. 27-29.) 

Pli. Well said; and what else? 

Chr. There are crowns of glory to be given us ; and garments that will make us 
shine like the sun in the firmament of heaven. (11. Tim. iv. 8 ; Kev. xxii. 5 ; Matt. xiii. 43.) 

Pli. This is very pleasant; and what else ? 

Chr. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow, for He that is owner of the place 
will wipe all tears from our eyes. (Isa. xxv. 8; Kev. vii. 16, 17; xxi. 4.) 

Pli. Andv\^hat company shall we have there? 

Chr. There we shall be with seraphims and cherubims, creatures that will dazzle 
your eyes to look on them, (Isa. vi. 1 ; I. Thess. iv. 16, 17.) There also you shall meet 
with thousands and tens of thousands that have gone before us to that place ; none of them 
are hurtful, but loving and holy; every one walking in the sight of God, and standing 
in his presence with accpatence forever. In a word, there we shall see the elders with 
their golden crowns (Kev. iv. 4); there we shall see the holy virgins with their golden 
harps (Kev. xiv. 1-5); there we shall see men that by the world were cut in pieces, 
burnt in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned in the seas, for the love they bore to the Lord 
of the place; all wcxi, and clothed with immortalitv as with a garment. (John xii. 25; 
II. Cor. V. 2-4.) 

Pli. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one's heart. But are these things to be 
enjoyed? How shall we get to be sharers thereof? 

Chr. The Lord, the Governor of the country, hath recorded that in this book, the 
substance of which is. If we be truly willing* to have it, he will bestow it upon us 
freely. (Isa. Ix. 1-8; John vi. 37; Kev. xxi. 6,7; xxii. 17.) 

Pli. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear of these thinejs; come on, let us 
mend our 'pace! 

Chr. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden that is on my back. 

Now, I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this talk, they drew nigh to a 
very miry slough that was in the midst of the plain; and they being heedless, did both 
fall suddenly into the bog. The name of the slough was Despond. Here, therefore, 
they wallowed for a time, being greviously bedaubed with the dirt; and Gbrijstian, be* 
cause of the burdea that was ou his back, begar to sink in the mire. 



S THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. 

Plt. Then said Pliable, Ah, neighbor Christian, where are you now? 

ClIR. Truly, said Christian, I do not know. 

Pli. At this Pliable began to l)e oifended, and angrily said to his fellow, Is this the 
happiness you have told me all this while of? If we have such ill si)eed at our first 
setting out what may we expect betwixt this and our journey's end? May I get out 
again with my life you shall possess the brave country alone for me. And with that lie 
gave desperate struggle or two, and got out of the mire on that side of the slough 
which was next to his own house; so away he went, and Christian saw him no more. 

Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond alone; but still he 
endeavored to stru^rgle to that side of the slough that was still further from his own 
house, and next to the Wicker-gate; the which he did, but could not get out because 
of the burden thgt was upon his back. Pat I beheld in my dream that a man came 
to him, whose name Avas Help, and asked him, what he did there? 

Chr. Sir, said Christian, I was bid to go this way by a man called Evangelist, who 
directed me also to yonder gate, that I might escape the wrath to come. And as I was 
going thither I fell in here. 

Help. But why did you not look for the steps? 

Chr. Fear followed me so liard that I fled the next way, and fell in. 

Help. Then said he, Give me thy hand ; so he gave him his hand, and he drew him 
out, and set him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way. (Psalm xl. 2.) 

Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and said, Sir, wlierefore, since over this 
place is the way fromthe city of Destruction to yonder gate, is it, that this place is not 
mended, that poor travelers might go thither with more security? And he said unto 
me. This miry slough is such a place as cannot be mended ; it is the descent whither 
the scum and filth that attends conviction for sin doth continually run, and therefore 
it is called the slough of Despond; for still, as the sinner is awakened about liis lost 
condition,''there arise in his soul many fears and doubts, and discouraging apprehei^- 
sions, Avhich all of them get together and settle in this place. And this is the reason 
of the badness of the ground. 

It is not the pleasure of the king that this place should remain so bad. (Isa. xxxv. 
o, 4, 8.) His laborers also have, by the direction of His Majesty's surveyors, been 
for above these sixteen hundred years employed about this patch of ground, if per- 
haps it might have been mended ; yea, and to my knowledge, said he, here have been 
swallowed up at at least twenty thousand cart-loads, yea, millions of wholesome in- 
structions, that have at all seasons been brought from all places of the King's domin- 
ions, (and, they that can tell, say they are the best materials to make good ground of 
the place), if so be it might have been mended; but it is the Slough of Despond still, 
and so will be when they have done what they can. 

True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, certain good and substantial steps 
placed even through the very midst of this slough ; but at such time as this place doth 
much spew out its filth, as it doth against change of Aveather, these steps are hardly 
seen ; or if they be, men through the dizziness of their heads, step beside ; and they are 
bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be there (I. Sam. xii 21); but the 
ground is good when they are once within the gate. 

Now I saw in my dream that by this time Pliable was got home to his house. So his 
neighbors came to visit him; and some of them called him wise man for coming back, 
and some called liim fool for hazarding jiimself with Christian; others agaia did mock 
at his cowardliness. Saying, surely, since you began to venture, I would not have been 
so base as to have given out for a few difficulties; so Piiable sat sneaking among them. 
But at last he got more confidence, and then they all turned their tails, and began to 
deride poor Christian to his back. And thus much concerning Pliable. 

Now as Christian was walking solitarily by himself he espied one afar off come cross- 
ing over the field to meet him; and their hap was to meet just as they were crossing 
the way of each other. The gentleman's name that met him was ^Ir. Worldly Wise- 
man; he dwelt in a town of Carnal Policy, a very great town, and also hard by from 
Avhence Christian came. This man, then, meeting with Christian, and having some 
inkling of him ( for Christian's setting forth from the city of Destruction was much 
noised abroad, not only in the town where lie dwelt, but also it began to be the town 
talk in some otiier places), Mr. Worldly Wiseman, therefore, having some guess of 
him by beholding his laborious going, by .observing his sighs and groans and the like, 
began thus to enter into some talk with Christian. 

World. How, now, good fellow; whither away after this burdened manner? 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 9 

Chr. a burdened manner, indeed, as ever I think poor creature had! And 
whereas you ask me, Whither away? I tell you, sir, I am going to yonder wicket-gate 
before me : for there, as I am informed, I shall be put into a way to be rid of my heavy 
burden. 

World. Hast thou a wife and children ? 

Chr. Yes ; but I am so laden with this burden that I cannot take that pleasure 
in them as formerly; methinks I am as if I had none. (Cor. vii. 29.) 

World. AVilt thou hearken to me if I give thee counsel? 

Chr. If it be good I will, for I stand in need of good counsel. 

World. I would advise thee, then, that thou with all speed get thyself rid of 
thy burden, for thou wilt never be set];led in thy mind till then ; nor canst thou enjoy 
the benefits of t'le blessings which God has bestowed upon thee till then. 

Chr. That is tliat which I seek for, even to be rid of this heavy burden ; but get it 
off myself I cannot ; nor is there any man in our country that can take it off my shoul- 
ders ;* therefore I am going this way, as I told you, that I may be rid of my burden. 

World. Who bidlhee go this way to be rid of thy burden? 

Chr. a man that appeared to me to be a very great and honorable person ; his name, 
as I remember, Evangelist. 

World. Beshrew him for his counsel ! there is not a more dangerous and trouble- 
some way in the worhl than is that into which he has directed thee; and that thou 
shalt find if thou wiJt be ruled by his counsel. Thou hast met with something, as I 
perceive, already, for I see the dirt of the slough of Despond is upon thee ; but that 
slough is the beginning of the sorrows that do attend those that go on in that way. 
Hear me; I am older than thou; thou art like to meet with, in the way which thou 
goest, wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, nakedness, sword, lions, dragons, 
darkness, and, in a word, death and what not. These things are certainly true, having 
been confirmed by many testimonies. And should a man so carelessly cast away him- 
self by giving heed to a stranger ? 

Chr. Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible to me than are all these 
things which you have mentioned; nay, methinks I care not what I meet with in the 
way, so be I can also meet with deliverance from my burden. 

World. How camest thou by thy burden at first? 

Chr. By reading this book in my hand. 

World. I thought so; and it is happened unto thee as to other weak men, who, 
meddling with things too high for them, do suddenly fall into thy distractions, which 
distractions do not only unman men, as thine I perceive have done thee, but they run 
them upon desperate ventures to obtain they know not what. 

Chr. I know what I would obtain ; it is ease from my heavy burden. 

World. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, seeing so many dangers attend 
it? especially since (hadst thou but patience to hear me) I could direct thee to the ob- 
taining of Avhat thou desirest without the dangers that thou in this way wilt run thyself 
into. Yea, and the remedy is at hand. Besides, I will add that instead of those dan- 
gers, thou shalt meet with much safety, friendship and content. 

Chr. Sir, I pray open this secret to me. 

World. Why, in yonder village (the village is named Morality) there resides a gen- 
tleman whose name is Legality, a very judicious man, and a man of a very good name, 
that has skill to help men off with such burdens as thine is from their shoulders; yea, 
to my knowledge he hath done a great deal of good this way ; ay, and besides he hath 
skill to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their wits with their burdens. To him, 
as I said, thou mayest go and be helped presently. His house in not quite a mile from 
this place; and if he should not be at home himself he hath a pretty young man to his 
son, whose name is Civility, that can do it (to speak out) as well as the old gentleman 
himself; there, I say, thou mayst be eased of thy burden; and if thou art not minded to 
go back to thy former habitation (as indeed I would not wish thee) thou mayest send 
for thy wife and children to thee to this village, where there are houses now stand 
empty, one of which thou mayest have at reasonable rates; provision is there also 
cheap and good; and that which will make thy life the more happy is to be sure there 
thou shalt live by honest neighbors, in credit and good fashion. 

Now was Christian somewhat at a stand; but presently he concluded. If this be true 
which this gentleman hath said my wisest course is to take his advice ; and with that he 
thus further spoke; 

CiiE. Sir, which is my way to this honest mao's house ? 



10 THE "piLGESrS ^"^OGRESS. 

World. Do you see yonder high hill? 

Chr. Yes, very well. 

World. By that hill you must go, and the first house you come at is his. 

So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality's house for help; but, be- 
hold, when he was got now hard by the hill it seemed so high, and also that side of it 
that was next the wayside did hang so much over that Christian was afraid to venture 
further, lest the hill should fall on his head ; wherefore there he stood still and wotted 
not what to do. Also, his burden now seemed heavier to him than Avhile he was in his 
way. There came also flashes of fire out of tlie Jiill tliat made Chrfstian afraid that he 
should be burnt (Exod. xix. 16-18; Heb. xii. 21); here therefore he sweat and did 
quake for fear. And now he began to be sorry that he liad taken Mr. Wordly AVise- 
man's counsel ; and with that he saw Evangelist coming to meet him, at the sight also of 
wiiom he began to blush for shame. So Evangelist drew nearer and nearer; and com- 
ing up to him he looked upon him with a severe and dreadful countenance, and thus 
began to reason with Christian: 

EvAN". What dost thou here? said he; at which words Christian knew not what to 
answer; wherefore at present he stood speechless before him. Then said Evangelist 
further, Art not thou the man that I found crying without the walls of the city of 
Destruction ? 

Chr. Yes, dear sir, I am the man. 

Evan. Did not I direct thee the Avay to the little wicket-gate? 

Yes, dear sir, said Christian. 

Evan. How is it then that thou art so quickly turned aside. For thou art now out 
of the way. 

Chr. I met with a gentleman so soon as I had got over the slough of Despond who 
persuaded me that I might, in the village before me, find a man that could take off my 
burden. 

Evan. What was he ? 

Chr. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much to me, and got me at last to 
yield; so I came hither; but when I beheld this hill and how it hangs over the way, 
I suddenly made a stand lest it should fall on my head. 

Evan. What said that gentleman to you ? 

Chr. Why, he asked me whither I was going, and I told him. 

©VAN. And what said he ? 

Chr. He asked me if 1 had a family, and I told him. But, said I, I am so leaden 
with the burden that is on my back that I cannot take j^leasure in them as formerly. 

Evan. And what said he then? 

Chr. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden; and I told him it was ease that 
I sought. And, said I, I am therefore going to yonder gate to receive further direc- 
tion howl may get to the place of deliverance. So he said that he would show me a 
better way, and short, not so attended with difficulties as the way, sir, that you set me 
in ; which way, said he, will direct you to a gentleman's house that hath skill to take 
off these burdens; so I believed him and turned out of that way into this, if haply I 
might be soon eased of my buTden. But when I came to this place, and beheld things 
as they are, I stopped for fear (as I said) of danger; but I now know not what to do. 

Evan. Then said Evangelist, Stand still a little, that I may show thee the words of 
God. So he stood trembling. Then said Evangelist, *'See that ye refuse not him that 
speaketh; for if they escaped not who refused him that spake on earth, much more 
shall not we escape if we turn away from him that speaketh from heaven." (Heb. xii. 
25.) He said, moreover, "Now the just shall live by faith; but if any man draw back, 
my soul shall have no pleasure in him.'' (Heb. x 38.) He also did thus apply 
them: Thou art the man that art running into this misery; thou hast begun to reject 
the counsel of the Most High, and to draw back thy foot from the way of peace, even 
almost to the hazarding of thy perdition. 

Then Christian fell down at his feet as dead, crying. Woe is me, for I am undone ! 
At the siglft of which Evangelist caught him by the right hand, saying, " All manner of 
sin and blasphemies shall be forgiven unto men." " Be not faithless, but believing." 
Then did Christian again a little revive and stood up trembling, as at first, before Evan- 
gelist. 

Then Evangelist proceeded, saying;. Give more earnest heed to the things that I shaU 
tell thee of. I will now show thee wiio it was that deluded thee, and who jt was also to 
whom he sent thee. The man that met thee is one Worldly Wiseman, and rightly is he 



TUE PILGRIM'S TKOGRES??. U 

SO called; partly because he savoreth only the doctrine of this world (T. John iv. 5); 
(therefore he always goes to the town of Morality to church); and partly because he 
loveth that doctrine best, for it saveth him best from the cross (Gal. vi. 12); and be- 
cause he is of this carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to pervert my ways, though 
right. Now there are three things in this man's counsel that thou must utterly 
abhor. 

1. His turning thee out of the way. 

2. His laboring to render the cross odious to thee. 

3. And his setting thy feet in that way that leadeth unto the ministration of 
death. 

Fir^t, thou must abhor his turning thee out of the wny ; yea, and thine own consent- 
ing thereto, because this is to reject the counsel of God for the sake of the counsel of 
a Worldly Wiseman. The Lord says, *' Sirive to enter in at the straigkt gate," the 
gate to which I send thee ; ''for straight is the gate that leadeth unto life, and few there 
be that find it." (Luke xiii. 24; Matt. vii. 13, 14.) From this little -svicket-gate, and 
from tiie way thereto hath this wicked man turned thee, to the bringing of thee almost 
to distruction ; hate, therefore, his turning thee out of the way, and abhor thyself for 
hearkening to him. 

Secondly, thou must abhor his laboring to render the cross odious unto thee, for 
thou art to prefer it before the treasures of Egyi)t. (Heb. xi. 25, 26.) Besides the 
King of Glory hath told thee that he that will save his life shall lose it. And he that 
comes after him and hates not his father and mother, and wife, and children, and 
brethren, and sisters, yea, and his ow^n life also, he cannot be my disciple. (Matt. x. 
37, 39; Mark viii. 34, 35 ; Luke xiv. 26, 27; John xii. 25.) I say, therefore, for a man to 
labor to persuade thee that that shall be thy death, without w^hich the truth hath said 
thou canst not have eternal life, this doctrine thou must abhor. 

Thirdly, thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the way that leadeth to the adminis- 
tration of death. And for this thou must consider to whom he sent thee, and also how 
unable that person was to deliver thee from thy burden. 

He to whom thou was sent for ease, being by name Legality, is the son of the bond-wo- 
man w^hich now is, and is in bondage with her children (Gal. iv. 21-27); and is (in a 
mystery) this Mount Sinai, which tliou hast feared will fall on thy head. Now, if she 
with her children are in bondage, how canst thou expect by them to be made free? 
This Lesfality, therefore, is not able to set thee free from thy burden. No man was as 
yet ever rid of his burden by him ; no, nor ever is like to be. Ye cannot be justified 
by the works of the law, for by the deeds of the law no man living can be rid of his 
burden ; therefore Mr. Worldly Wiseman is an alien, and Mr. Legality is a cheat; and 
for his son Civility, notwithstanding his simpering' looks, he is but a hypocrite, and 
cannot help thee. Believe me, there is nothing in all this noise that thou hast heard of 
these sottish men, but a desi^^n to beguile ti^ee oi' thy salvation by turning thee from 
the way in ^vhich I had set thee. After this, Evangelist called aloud to the heavens for 
confirm ition of what he said; and with that there came words and fire out of the moun- 
tain under which poor Christian stood, that made the hair of his flesh stand. The 
words were tims pronounced: "As many as are of the works of the law are under the 
curse, for it is written. Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are 
written in the botik of the law to do them " (Gal. iii. 10.) 

Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and began to cry out lamentably, even 
cursing the time in wh ch he met with Mr. Worldly Wiseman ; still calling himself a 
thousand fools for hearkening to his counsel. He also was greatly ashamed to think 
that this gentleman's arguments, flowing only from the flesh, should have the preva- 
lency with him so far as to cause him to forsake the right way. This done, he applied 
himself again to Evangelist in words and sense as follows ; 

Chr. Sir, what think you, is there any hope ? May I now go back and go up to the 
wicket-gate? Shall I not be abandoned for this, and sent back from thence ashamed? 
I am sorry I have hearkened to this man's counsel ; but may my sins be for- 
given ? 

Evan. Then said Evangelist to him, Thy sin is very great, for by it thou hast com- 
mitted two evils ; thou hast forsaken the way that is good, to tread in forbidden paths. 
Yet will the man at the gate receive thee, lor he has good w.ll for men; only, said he, 
take heed that thou turn not aside again, *'lest thou perish from the way, when his wrath 
is kindled but a little." (Psalm ii. 12.) 



12 THE PILGKIM's PllOGBESS. 



THE SECOND STAGE. 



Then did Christian address liimselt" to go back ; and Evangelist after he had kissed 
him, gave him one smile and bid him Godspeed. So he went on with haste, neither 
spake he to any man by the way, nor if any man asked him would he vouchsafe them 
an answer. He went like one that was all the while treading on forbidden ground, 
and could by no means think himself safe till again he had got in the way which he 
had left to follow Mr. Worldly Wiseman's counsel. So in the process of time Chris- 
tian got up to the gate. Now over the gate there was written, *' Knock, and it shall be 
opened unto you." (Matt. vii. 8.) 

He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, saying, 

*' May I now enter here ? Will he within 
Open to sorry me though I have been 
An undeserving rebel ? Then shall I 
Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high." 

At last there came a grave person to the gate, named Good-will, who asked who was 
there? and whence he came? and what lie would have? 

Che. Here is a poor, burdened sinner. I come from the city of Destruction, but 
am going to Mount Zion that 1 may be delivered from the wrath to come. I would 
therefore, sir, since I am informed that by this gate is the way thither, know if you 
are willing to let me in. 

Good. I am willing with all my heart, said he; and with that he opened the gate. 

So when Christian was stepping in the other gave him a pull. Then said Christian, 
What means that? The other told him, A little distance from this gate there is erected 
a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is the captain ; from thence both he and them 
that are with him shoot arrows at those that come up to this gate, if haply they may 
die before they enter in. 

Then said Christian, I rejoice and tremble. So when he was got in the man at the 
gate asked him who directed him thither? 

Chr. Evangelist bid me come hither and knock, as I did; and he said that you, sir, 
would tell me what I must do. 

Good. An open door is set before thee, and no man can shut it. 

Chr. Now I begin to reap the benefit of my hazards. 

Good. But how is it that you came alone? 

Chr. Because none of my neighbors saw their danger as I saw mine. 

Good. Did any of them know of your coming ? 

Chr. Yes, my wife and children saw me at the first, and called after me to turn 
again ; also some of my neighbors stood crying, and calling after me to return ; but 
I put my fingers in my ears, and so came on my way. 

Good. But did none of them follow you to persuade you to go back? 

Chr. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable; but when they saw that they could not pre- 
vail Obstinate went railing' back, but Pliable came with me a little way. 

Good. But w^hy did he not come through? 

Chr. We indeed both came together until we came to the slough of Despond, into 
which we also suddenly fell. And then was my neighbor Pliable discouraged, and 
would not adventure farther. Wherefore, getting out again on the side next to his 
own house, he told me I should possess the brave country alone for him; so he went 
his way, and I came mine; he after Obstinate, and I to this gate. 

Good. Then said Good-will, Alas, poor man ! is the celestial glory of so little es- 
teem with him that he counteth it not worth running the hazard of a few difiiculties 
to obtain it? 

Chr. Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of Pliable, and if I sliould also 
say all the truth of myself it will appear there is no betterment betwixt him and my- 
self. It is true he went back to his own house, but I also turned aside to go into the 
way of death, being pursuaded thereto by the carnal argument of one Mr. Worldly 
Wiseman. 

Good. Oh, did he light upon you ? What, he would have had you seek for ease at 
the hands of Mr. Legality! they are both of them a very great cheat. But did you 
take his counsel? 



THE P1LGKIM*S PROGRESS. IS 

Ohr. Yes, as far as I durst, I went to find out Mr. Legality, until 1 thought that the 
mountain that stands by his house would have fallen upon my head; wherefore, there 
was I forced to stop. 

Good. That mountain has been the death of many, and will be the death of many 
more ; it is well you escaped being by it dashed in j)ieces. 

Chr. Why, truly, I do not know what had become of me there had not Evangelist 
happily met me again as I was musing in the midst of my dumps ; but it was God's 
mercy that he came to me again, for else I had never come hither. But now I am come, 
such a one as 1 am, more fit, indeed, for death by that mountain than thus to stand 
talking with my Lord. But, oh, what a favor is this to me that yet I am admitted 
entrance here! 

Good. We make no objections against any, notwithstanding all that they have done 
before they came hither; '^ tiiey in no wise are cast out." (John vi. 37.) And therefore, 
good Christian, come a little way with me, and I will teach thee about the way thou 
must go. Look before thee ; dost thou see this narrow way ? that is the way thou inust 
go. It was cast up by the patriarchs, propliets, Christ, and his apostles, and it is as 
straight as a rule can make it; this is the way thou must go. 

Chr. But, said Christian, are there no turnings nor windings by which a stranger 
may lose his way? 

Good. Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this, and they are crooked and 
wide; but tlius thou mayest distinguish the right from the wrong, the right only being 
straight and narrow. (Matt. vii. 14.) 

Then I saw in my dream that Christian asked him further if he could not help him 
off with his burden that was upon his back ; for as yet he had not got rid thereof, nor 
could he by any means get it off without help. 

He told him, As to thy burden, be content to bear it until thou comest to the place of 
deliverance, for there it will fall from thy back of itself. 

Then Christian began to gird up his loins and to address himself to his journey. So 
the other told him that when he was gone some distance from the gate he would come 
to the house of the Interpreter, at whose door he should knock, and he would show 
him excellent things. Then Christian took his leave of his friend, and he again bade 
him Godspeed. 

Then he Avant on till he came at the house of the Interpreter, Avhere he knocked 
over and over. At last one came to the door and asked who was there. 

Chr. Sir, here is a traveler who was bid by an acquaintance of the good man of 
this house to call here for my profit ; I Avould therefore speak with the master of the 
house. 

So he called for the master of the house, who, after a little time, came to Christian 
and asked him what he would have. 

Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am come from the city of Destruction, and am 
going to the Mount Zion ; and I was told by the man that stands at the gate at the head 
of this way that if I called here you would show me excellent things, such as would be 
an help to me on my journey. 

Then said Interpreter, Come in ; I will show thee that which will be profitable to 
thee. So he commanded his man to light the candle, and bid Christian follow him; so 
he had him into a private room and bid his man open a door, the which, when it w^s 
done, Christian saw the picture of a very grave person hang up against the wall, and 
this was the fashion of it : it had eyes uplifted to heaven, and the best of books in its 
hand, the law of truth was written upon its lips, the world was behind its back ; it 
stood as if it pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did hang over its head. 

Then said Christian, What meaneth this? 

Inter. The man whose picture this is is one of a thousand ; he can beget children 
(I. Cor. iv. 15.), travail in birth with children (Gal. iv. 19.), and nurse them himself 
when they are born. And whereas thou seest him with his eyes lift up to heaven, the 
best of books in his hand, and the law of truth writ on his lips— it is to show thee that 
his work is to know and unfold dark things to sinners, even as also thou seest him stand 
as if he pleaded with men ; and whereas thou sees the world as cast behind him, and 
that a crown hangs over his head — that is to show thee that slighting and despising the 
things that are present for the love that he hath to his master's service he is sure in the 
world that comes next to have glory for his reward. Now, said the Interpreter, I have 
showed thee this picture first because the man whose picture this is is the only man 
whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath authorized to be thy guide in 



14 THE PILGKIM'S PROGRESS. 

:il: difficult places thou mayest meet with in the way. Wherefore take good heed to 
what I have showed thee, and bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy 
journey thou meet with some that pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes down 
to death. 

Then he took him by the hand and led him into a yery large parlor that was full oi 
dust because never swept, the which, after he had reviewed it a little while, the Inter- 
preter called for a man to sweep. Now, when he began to sweep, the dust began sc 
abundantly to fly about that Christian had almost therewith been choked. Then said 
the Interpreter to a damsel that stood by, Bring hither water and sprinkle the room ; 
the which when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure. 

Then said Christia?i, What means this? 

The Interpreter answered, This parlor is the heart of a man who was never sanctified 
by the sweet irrace of the gospel ; the dust is his original 5in and inward corruptions 
that have defiled the whole man. He that be^ran to swt ep at first is the Law, but she 
that brought water and did sprinkle it is the Gospel. Now whereas thou sawest that so 
soon as the first began to sweep the dust did so fly about that the room by him could 
not be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked therewith ; this is to show thee that 
the law, instead of cleansing the heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive, put 
strength int >, and increase it in the soul, even as it doth dis over and lorbid it, 
for it doth not give power to subdue. (Rom. v. 20; vii. 1-71 ; I. Cor. xv. 56.) 

Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room wiih water, upon which it 
was cleansed with pleasure, this is to show thee that w-hen the gos])el comes in the sweet 
and precious influences thereof to the heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the dam- 
sel lay the dust by sprink ing the floor Avith water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, 
and the soul made clean through the faith of it, and consequtntly fit for the King of 
glory to inhabit. (John xiv. 21-23 ; xv. 3 ; Acts xv. 9 ; Romans xvi. 25, 26 ; Eph. 
V. 26.) 

I saw moreover in my dream that the Interpreter took him by the hand and had him 
into a little room w^here sat two little children each one in his chair. The name of the 
eldest Avas passion, and the name of the other Patience. Passion seemed to be much 
discontented, but Patience Avas very quiet. Then Christian asked, Wh-,t is the reason 
of the discontent of Passion? The Interpreter answered. The Governor of them w^ould 
have him stay for his best things till the beginning of the next year, but he will have 
all now. But Patience is willing to w^ait. 

Then I saw that one came to Passion and brought him a bag of treasure and poured it 
down at his feet; the which he took up and rejoiced therein, and wiihal laughed 
Patience to scorn. But I beheld but a 'Cvhile, and he had lavished all away, and had 
nothing left him but rags. 

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Expound this matter more fully to me. 

So he said, These tw^o lads are figu' es; Passion of tiie men of this world, and Patience 
of the men of that which is to come ; for, as here thou seest. Passion will have all now, 
this year; that is to say, m this w^orld. So are the men of this world ; they must have all 
their good things now ; they cannot stay till the next year; that is, until the next world, 
for their portion of good. That proverb, ^' A bird in the hand is worth two in the 
bush," is of more authority w^ith them than are all the divine testimonies of the 
good of the world to come. But as thou sawest that he had quickly lavished all away, 
and had presently nothing left hini but rags; i^o will it be with ail such men at the end 
of this world. 

Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience has the best wisdom, and that up( n 
anany accounts. First, because he siays for the best things. Second, and also because 
he will have the glory of his when the other has noth.ng but rags. 

Inter. Nay, you may add another, to-wit, the g.ory of the next world will never 
wear out, but these are suddenly gone. Therefore Passion had not so much reason to 
laugh at Pa ience because he had his good things first, as Patience will have to laugh 
at Passion, because he had his best things last ; for first must give place to last because 
last must have his time to come ; but Jast gives place to nothing, for there is not another 
to succeed. He, therefore, that hath his portion first must needs have a time to spend 
it ; but he that hath his portion last must have it lastingly ; therefore it is said of Dives, 
'' in thy lifetime thou receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but 
now he is comforted and ti.ou art tormented." (Luke xiv. 19-31.) 

Chr. Then 1 perceive it is not best to covet things that are now, but to wait for 
things to come. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 15 

Inter. You say truth, for the things that are seen are temporal, but the things that 
are not seen are eternal. (II. Cor. iv. 18.) But though this be so, yet since things pres- 
ent and our fleshly ap])etite are such near neighbors one to another; and again, because 
things to come and carnal sense are such strangers to one another; therefore it is, that 
the first of these so suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so continued between 
the second. 

Then I saw in ray dream that the Interpreter took Christian by the hand and led him 
into a place where was a fire burning against a wall, and one standing by it always 
casting inuch water upon it to quench it; yet did the fire burn higher and hotter. 

Then said Christian, What means this? 

Ihe Interpreter answered. This fire is the work of grace that is wrought in the heart; 
he that casts water upon it to extinguish and put it out is the devil ; buo in that thou 
seestthe fire, notwithstanding, burn higher and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of 
that. So he had him about to the back side of the wall, where he saw a man with a 
vessel of oil in his hand, of the which he did also continually cast (but secretly) into 
the fire. 

Then said Christian, What means this? 

The Interpreter answered. This is Christ, who continually, wdth the oil of his grace, 
maintains the work already begun in the heart; by the means of which, notwithstand- 
ing what the devil can do, the souls of his people prove gracious still. And in that 
thou sawest, that the man stood behind the wall to maintain the fire, that is to^ teach 
thee that it is hard for the tempted to see how this work of grace is maintained in the 
soul. 

I saw also that the Interpreter took him again by the hand and led him into a pleasant 
place, where was built a stately palace, beautiful to behold, at the sight of which 
Christian was greatly delighted; he saw also upon the top thereof certain persons 
walking, who w^ere clothed all in gold. 

Then said Christian, May we go in thither? 

Then the Interpreter took him and led him up toward the door of the palace; and 
behold, at the door stood a great company of men, all desirous to go in but durst not. 
There also sat a man at a little distance frcjm the door, at a table-side, with a book and 
his ink-horn before him, to ta e the names of them that should enter therein; he saw 
also that in the door-way stood many men in armor to keep it, being resolved to do to 
the men that ivoidd enter what hurt and mischief they could. Now was Christian 
somewhat in amaze. At last, when every man started back for fear of the armed men, 
Christian saw a man of a very stout countenance come up to the man that sat there to 
write, saying " Set down my name, sir; " the which when he had done he saw the man 
draw his sword and put a helmet upon his head, and rush toward the door upon the 
armed men, who laid upon him with deadly force; but the man, not at all discouraged, 
fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely. So after he had received and given many 
wounds to those that attempted to keep him out, he cut his way through them all and 
pressed forward into the palace, at which there was a pleasant voice heard from those 
that w^ere within, even of those that w^alked upon the top of the palace, saying, 

''Come in, come in, 
Eternal glory thou shalt win.*' 

So he went in and and was clothed with such garments as they. Then Christian smiled 
and said, I think verily I know the meaning of this. 

Now, said Christian, let me go hence. Nay, stay, said the Interpreter, till I have 
showed thee a little more, and after that thou shalt go on thy way. So he took him by 
the hand again and led him him into a very dark room, where there sat a man in an 
iron cage. 

Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad; he sat with his eyes looking down to the 
ground, his hands folded together, and he sighed as if he would"^ break his heart. Then 
fcaid Christian, What means this? At which the Interpreter bid him talk with the man. 

Then said Christian to the man, What art thou ? The man answered, I am what I 
was not once. 

Chr. What was thou once? 

Man. The man said, I was once a fair and flourishing professor, both in mine own 
eyes and also in the eyes of others; I once was, as I thought, fail- for the celestial citv, 
and had then even joy at the thoughts that I should get thither. (Luke viii. 13.) 

Cus. W'ell, but what ai't thou now? 



16 THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. 

Man. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up in it as in this iron cage. I can- 
not get out; oh, now I cannot! 

Chr. But how earnest thou in this condition? 

Man. I left off to watch and be sober; I laid the reins upon the neck of my lusts; 
I sinned against the light of the world and the goodness of God; I have grieved the 
Spirit and he is gone; I tempted the devil and he is come to me ; I have provoked God 
to anger and he has left me ; I have so hardened my heart that I cannot repent. 

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But is there no hope for such man as this? 
Ask him, said the Interpreter. 

Ciir. Then said Christian, Is there no hope, but you must be kept in the iron cage 
of despair? 

Man. No, none at all. 

Chr. Why, the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful. 

Man. I have crucified him to myself afresh; I have despised his person, I have de- 
spised his righteousness, I have counted his blood an unholy thing, I have done despite 
to the Spirit of grace (Luke xix. 14; Heb. vi. 4-6, x. 28, 29); therefore I have shut myself 
out of all the promises, and there now remains to me nothing but threatenings — dread- 
ful threatenings, faithful threatenings — cf certain judgment and fiery indignation, 
which shall devour me as an adversary. 

Chr. For what did you bring yourself into this condition? 

Man. For the lusts, pleasures and profits of this world, in the enjoyment of which 
I did then promise myself much delight ; but now every one of those things also bite 
me, and gnaw me like a burning worm. 

Chr. But canst thou not now repent and turn? 

Man. God hath denied me repentance. His Avord gives me no encouragement to 
believe; yea, himself hath shut me up in this iron cage, nor can all the men in the 
world let me out. O Eternity! Eternity! how shall I grapple with the misery that I 
must meet with in eternity! 

Inter. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let this man's misery be remembered 
by thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee. 

Chr. Well, said Christian, this is fearful ! God help me to watch and be sober, and 
to pray that I may shun the cause of this man's misery. Sr, is it not time for me to 
go on my way now? 

Inter. Tarry till I shall show thee one thing more, and then thou shalt go on thy 
way. 

So he took Christian by the hand again and led him into a chamber, where there was 
one rising out of bed; and as he put on his raiment he shook and trembled. Then 
said Christian, Why doth this man thus tremble? The Interpreter then bid him tell 
to Christian the reason of his so doing. 

So he began, and said. This night as I was in my sleep I dreamed, and behold the 
heavens grew exceeding black; also it thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, 
that it put me into an agony. So I looked up in my dream and saw toe clouds rack 
at an unusual rate ; upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a 
man sitting upon a cloud attended with the thousands of heaven; they were all in 
flaming fire, also the heavens were on a burning flame. I heard then a voice, saying, 
*' Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment;" and with that the rocks rent, the graves 
opened, and the dead that were therein came forth. (John v. 28, 29 ; 1 Cor. xv. 51-58; 
II. Thess. i. 7-10; Jude 14, 15; Rev. xx. 11-15.) Some of them were exceeding glad, 
and looked upward; and some sought to hide themselves under the mountains (Psalm 

1. 1-3, 22; Isa. xxvi. 20, 21; Mic. vii. 16, 17); then I saw the man that sat upon the 
cloud open the book and bid the world draw near. Yet there was, by reason of a fierce 
flame that issued out and came from before him, a convenient distance betwixt him 
and them, as betwixt the judge and the prisoners at the bar. (Dan. vii. 9, 10; Mai. iii. 

2, 3.) 1 heard it also proclaimed to them that attended on the man that sat on the 
the cloud, "Gather together the tares, the chafl' and stubbie, and cast them 
into the burning lake;" and with that the bottomless pit opened just where- 
about I stood, out of the mouth o^ which there came, in an abundant manner, smoke 
and coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was also said to the same persons, '* Gather 
my wheat into the garner." (Mai. iv. 2; Matt. iii. 12, xviii. 30; Luke iii. 17.) And 
with that I saw many catched up and carried away into the clouds (1 Thess. iv. 13-18.), 
bijt I was left behi;id. I also sought to hide myself but I could not, for the man that 
sat upoa the cjoud still l^ept his eye upon me; my sins also came into my mind, and 




Pd'jr 2i. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 17 

my conscience did accuse me on eyery side. (Rom. 11. 14, 15.) Upon this I awakened 
from my sleep. 

Chr. But what was it that made you so afraid of this sight? 

Man. Why, I thought that the day of judgment was come, and that I was not ready 
for it; but this frighted me most, that the angels gathered up several and left me be- 
hind; also the pit of hell opened her mouth just where I stood; my conscience, too, 
afflicted me, and as I thought, the Judge had always his eye upon me, showing indig- 
nation in his countenance. 

Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Hast thou considered all these things? 

CiiR. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear. 

Inter. Well, keep all things so in thy mind that they may be as good as a goad in 
thy sides to prick thee forward in the way thou must go. 

'" " Theo/ 




5 theeia- 

** Here I have seen things rare and profitable, 
Things pleasant, dreadlul, things to make me stable 
In what 1 have begun to take in hand ; 
Then let me thiiik on them, and understand 
Wli«M-ef(ire they showed me were, and let me be 
Thaokiul, oh, good Interpreter, to theel " 



THE THIRD STAGE. 

Now, I saw in my dream that the highway up which Christian was to go was fenced 

on either side with a wall, and that Avail was called Salvation. (Isaiah xxvi. 1.) Up 
this way, therefore, did burdened Christian run, but not without great diliiculty, be- 
cause of the load on his back. 

He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending; and upon that place stood 
a Cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a sepulcher. So I saw in my dream that just 
as Christian came up with the Cross his burden loosed from off" his shoulders and fell 
from otF his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to do till it came to the 
mouth of the sepulcher, where it fell in and I saw it no more. 

Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and s:ud with a merry hear.t, '' He hath given 
me rest by his sorrow and life by his death!'' Then he stood still a while to look and 
wonder, for it was very surprising to him that the sight of the Cross should thus ease him 
of his burden. He looked, therefore, and looked again, even till the springs that were 
in his head sent the waters down his cheeks. (Zech. xii. 10.) Now as he stood looking 
and weeping, behold three shining ones came to him and saluted him with, " Peace be 
to thee; " so the first said to him, "Thy sins be forgiven thee" (Mark ii. 5); the second 
stripped him of his rags and clothed him with change of raiment; the third also set 
a mark on his forehead and gave him a roll with a seal upon it (Zech. iii. 4; Eph. i. 13), 
which he bid him look on as he ran, and that he should give it in at the celestial gate; 
so they went their vvay. Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on singing: 

*' Thus far did I come loaden with my sin, 
Kor coull aught ease the grief ihat I was in. 
Till I came hiiiier ! What a place i- this ! 
Must here be the beginning of my bliss? 
Must here the burden fall from off my backT 
Mu?.t here the strings that bound it to me crack ? 
Blest Cross ! blest sepulcher ! blest rather be 
The Man that there was put to shame for me ! '* 

I saw then in my dream that he went on thus, even until he came at the bottom, 
where he saw, a liUle out of the way, three men fast asleep with fetters upon their 
heels. The name of the one was Simple, another Sloth, and the third Presumption. 

Christian then seeing them lie in this case went to them, if peradventure he might 
awake them, and cried, You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast (Pro v. xxiii. 
34), for the Dead Sea is under you, a gulf that hath no bottom; awake, therefore, and 
come away; be willing also, and I will help you off with your irons. 5e also told 
tiiem, Ii iie that goeth about like a roariAg Hon comes by, you will certainly become a 



18 THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. 

prey to liis teeth. (1 Pet. v. 8.) With that they looked upon him and began to reply 
In this sort: Simple said, I see no danger. Sloth said, Yet a little more sleep. And 
Presumption said, Every tub must stand upon its own bottom, and so they laid down. 
to sleep again, and Christian went on his way. 

Yet he was troubled to think that men in that danger should so little esteem the 
kindness of him that so freely offered to helj) them, both by awakening of them, coun. 
seling of them, and profferii g to iielp them off with their irons. And as he was troubled, 
thereabout, he espied two men come tumbling over the wall on the left hand of the 
narrow way, and they made up apace to him. The name of the one was Formalist^ 
and the name of the other Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they drew up unto him, who thus 
entered with them into discourse : 

Chr. Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither do you go? 

Form, and Hyp. We were born in the land of Vain-glory, and are going, for praise, 
to Mount Zion. 

Chr. Why came you not in at the gate which standeth at the beginning of the way? 
Know ye not that it is written that, "He that cometh not in by the door, but ciimbeth 
up some other Avay, the same is a thief and a robber?" (John x. 1.) 

Form, and Hyp. They said that to go to the gate for entrance was by all their coun- 
trymen counted too far about, and that therefore their usual way was to make a short 
cut of it and to climb over the wall as the,y had done. 

Chr. But will it not be counted a trespass against the Lord of the city whither we 
are bound, thus to violate his revealed will? 

Form, and Hyp. They told him that as for that he needed not to trouble his head 
thereabout; for what they did they had custom for, and could produce, if need were, 
testimony that would witness it for more than a thousand years. 
Chr. But, said Christian, will you stand a trial at law ? 

Form, and Hyp. They told him that custom, it being of so long standing as above a 
thousand years, would doubtless now^ be admitted as a thing legal by an impartial 
judge. And besides, said they, if we get into the way, what matter is it which way we 
get in? If we are in, we are in; thou art but in the way, who, as we perceive, came in at 
the gate, and we also are in the way that came tumbling over the wall. Wherein, now, 
is thv condition better than ours? 

Chr. I walk by the rule of my Master; you walk by the rude working of your 
fancies. You are counted thieves already by the Lord of the way ; therefore 1 doubt 
you will not be found true men at the end of the Avay. You come in by yourselves 
without his direction and shall go out by yourselves without his mercy. 

To this they made him but little answer, only they bid him look to himself. Then I 
saw that they went on, every man in his way, without much conference one with an- 
other, save that these two men told Christian that as to laws and ordinances tliey 
doubted not but that they should as conscieiitiou-^ly do them as he. Therefore, said they, 
we see not Avherein thou differest from us but by the coat that is on thy back, which 
was, as we trow, given thee by some of thy neighbors to hide the shame of thy naked- 
ness. 

Chr. By laws and ordinances you will not be saved (Gal. ii. 16.), since you came not 
in by the door. And as for this coat that is on my back, it was given me by the Lord 
of the place Avhither I go ; and that, as you say, to cover my nakedness with. And I 
take it as a token of kindness to me, for I had nothing but rags before. And besides, 
thus I comfort myself as I go : Surely, think I, Avhen I come to the gate of the city 
the Lord thereof will know me for good, since i have his coat on my back — a coat that 
he gave me freely in the day that he stripped me of my rags. I have, moreover, a mark 
in my forehead, of which perhaps you have taken no notice, which one of my Lord's 
most intimate associates lixed there in the day that my burden fell off my shoulders. 
I will tell you, moreover, that I had then given me a roll sealed to comfort me by read- 
ing as I go on the way. I was also bid to give it in at the celestial gate in token of my 
certain going in after it; all which things I doubt yoti want, and want them because 
vou came not in at the gate. 

To these things they gave him no answer, only they looked upon each other and 
laughed. Then I saw that they went all on, save that Christian kept before, who had no 
more t lik but with himself, and that sometimes sighingly and sometimes comfortably. 
Also he would be often reading in the roll that one of the shining ones gave him, by 
which he was refreshed. 
I beheld then that they all went on till they came to the foot of the hill, Difficultyj 



THE pilgrim's progress. id 

at the bottom of which was a spring'. There were also in the same place two othei 
v^'ays besides that which came straight from the ^ate; one turned to the left hand and 
the other to the rit^ht, at the bottom of the hill; but the narrow way lay right up the 
hill, and the name of the going up the side of the hill is called Difficulty. Christian 
now went to the spring and drank thereof to refresh himself (Isaiah xlix. 10-12), and 
then he began to go up the hill, saying: 

*'The hill, though high, I covet to ascend ; 
Tho difficulty will not me otlend ; 
For I perceive the way to life lies here. 
Come, pluck up, heart, let's neither faint nor fear ; 
Better, though difficult, the right way to go. 
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe/* 

The other two also came to the foot of the hill, but Avhen they saw that the hill wa^ 
sk'ep and high, and th'at there were two other ways to go ; and supposing also thnt 
these two ways might meet again with that up which Christian went on the other side 
of the hill, therefore they were resolved to go in those Avays. Now, the name of one 
of thc^de ways was Danger, and the name of the other Destruction. So the one took 
the way Avhich is called Danger, which led him into a gre-at wood, and the other took 
directly up the way to Destruction, which led him into a wide field full of dark moun- 
tains, where he stumbled and fell and rose no more. 

I looked then after Christian to see him go up the hill, where I perceived he fell 
from running to going, and from jjoine to clambering rpon his hands and his knees, be- 
cause of the steepness of the place. Now, about the midway to the top of the hill was 
a pleasant arbor, made by the Lord of the hill, for the refreshment of weary travelers. 
Thither, therefore, Christian got, where also he sat down to rest him. Then he pulled 
his roll out of his bosom and read therein to his comfort. He also now began atresJi to 
take a review of the coat or garment that was given to him as he stood by the cross. 
Thus pleasing himself a while he at last fell into a slumber and thence into a fast sleep, 
which detained him in that place until it was almost night; and in his sleep his roil 
fell out of his h ind. Now, as he was sleeping, there came one to him and awakened 
him, saying, *'Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways and be wise." (Pror. 
vi. 6.) And with that Christian suddenly started up and sped him on his way, and 
went apace till he came to the top of the hill. 

Now, when lie was got up to the top of the hill there came two men running to meet 
him amain; the name of the one was Timorous, and of the other Mistrust, to whom 
Christian said. Sirs, what's the matter? You run the wrong way. Timorous answered 
that they were goin^j: to the city of Zion, and had got up that difficult ])lace; but, said 
he^ the farther we go the m re danger we meet with, wherefore we turned and are going 
ba'-k again. 

Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us lie a couple of lions in the wav, whether sleep- 
ing or waking we know not; and we could not think, if we came within reach, but 
they would presently pull us in pieces. 

Chr. Then s id Christian, You make me afraid; but Avhither shall I fly to be safe? 
If I go back to mine own country, that is prepared for fire and brimstone, and 1 shall 
ccrt::inly perish there; if I can get to the celesiial city I am sure to be in safety there; 
I must venture. To go back is nothing but death; to go forward is fear of death and 
life everlasting beyond it. I will yet go forward. So Mistrust and Timorous ran down 
the hill and Christian went on his way. But thinking again of what he lad heard from 
the men, he felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read therein and be comforted ; 
but he felt and found it not. Then was Christian in great distress, and knew not what 
to do, for ne wanted that which used to relieve him, and that which should have been 
his pass into the celestial ciiy. Here, therefore, he began to be much perplexed, and 
knew ifot what to do. At last'he bethought himself that he had slept in the arbor that 
is on the side of the hill, and falling down upon his knees he asked God s forgiveness 
far that foolisn act, and then went back to look for his roll. But all the way he went 
back who can sufficiently set forth the sorrow of Christian's heart? Sometimes he 
sighed, sometimes he wept, and oltentimes he ohid himself for being so foolish to fall 
asleep in that place which was erected only for a little refreshment for ids weariness. 
Thus, therefore, he went back, carefully looking on this side and on ihat all the way as he 
went, if happily he migut find his roll that had been his comfort so many times on his 
iourney. He went thus till he came within sight of the arbor where he sat and slept; 
out that sight renewed his sorrow the more by bringing again, even afresh, his evil of 



20 THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. 

sleeping into his mind. Thus, therefore, he now went on, bewailing his sinful sleep, 
saying,"Oh, wretched man that I am, that I should sleep m the daytime! (I Thess. v. 
7, 8; Rev. ii. 4, 5.) That I should sleep in the midst of difficulty! that I should so in- 
dulge the tlesh as to use the rest for ease to my flesh which the Lord of the hill hath 
erected only for the relief of the spirits of pilgrims ! How many steps have I taken in 
vain! Thus it happened to Israel ; for their sin they were sent back again by the 
way to the Red Sea; and I am made to tread those steps with sorrow which I might 
liave trod with delight had it not been for this sinful sleep. How far might I have 
been on my way by this time ! I am made to tread those steps thrice over which I 
needed not to have trod but once; yea, now also I am like to be benighted, for the 
day is almost spent. Oh, that I had not slept ! 

Now by this time he was come to the arbor again, where for a while he sat down and 
wept; but at last (as Christian would have it), looking sorrowfully down under the 
settle there he espied his roll, the which he with trembling and haste catched up and 
l)ut into his bosom. But who can tell how joyful this man Vvas when he had gotten 
his roll again ! For this roll was the assurance of his life and acceptnnce at the desired 
haven. Therefore he laid it up in his bosom, gave thanks to God for directing his eve 
to the place Avhere it lay, and with joy and tears betook himself again to his journey. 
But, oh, how nimbly now did he go up the rest of the hill! Yet before he got up the 
sun went down upon Christian, and this made him again recall the vanity of his 
sleeping to his reinembrance, and thus he again began to condole himself: Oh, thou 
sinful sleep, how for thy sake am I like to be benighted in my journey! I must walk 
without the sun ; darkness must cover the path of my feet, and 1 must hear the noise 
of the doleful creatures. because of my sinful sleep! Now also he remembered the story 
that Mistrust and Timorous told him of, how they were frightened with the sight of the 
lions. Then said Christian to himself again, These beasts range in the night for their 
prey, and if they should meet with me in the dark, how should I shift them? How 
should I escape being by them torn in pieces? Thus he went on his way. But while 
he was bewailing his unhappy miscarriage, he lifted his eyes up and behold there was 
a very stately palace before him, the name of which was Beautiful, and it stood by the 
hiuhway side. 

So I saw in my dream that he made haste and went forward that if possible he might 
get lodging there. Now before he had gone far, he entered into a very narrow passage 
which was about a furlong olf of the porter's lodge, and looking very narrowly before 
him as he went, he espied two lions in the way. Now, thought he, I see the dangers 
that Mistrust and Timorous were driven back by. (The lions were chained but he saw 
not the chains.) Then he was afraid, and thought also himself to go back after them, 
for he thought nothing but death was before him. But the porter at the lodge, whose 
name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian made a halt as if he would go back, cried 
unto him saying. Is thy strength so small? (Mark iv. 40.) Fear not the lions, for they 
are chained, and are placed there for trial of faith where it is, and for discovery of 
those that have none. Keep in the midst of the path and no hurt shall come unto thee. 

Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fea'r of the lions, but taking good heed to 
the directions of the porter. He heard them roar, but they did him no harm. Then 
he clapped his hands and went on till he came and stood before the gate where the 
porter was. Then said Christian to the porter. Sir, what house is this, and may i 
lodge here to-night? 

The porter answered, This house was built by the Lord of the hill, and he built it for 
the relief and security of pilgrims. The porter also asked whence he was and whither 
he was going? 

Chr. I am going from the city of Destruction, and am going to Mount Zion: but 
because the sun is now set, I desire if I may, to lodge here to-night. 

Port. What is your name ? 

CiiR. My name is now Christian, but my name at the first was Graceless ; I came of 
the race of Japheth(Gen. ix. 27.), whom God willpursuade to dwell in the tents of Shem. 

Port. But how dotli it happen that you come so late? The sun is set. 

CiiR. I had been here sooner but that — wretched man that I am! — I slept in ilie 
arbor that stands on the hill-side. Nay, I had notwithstanding that been here much 
sooner but that in my sleep I lost my evidence, and came witliout it to the brow of 
the hill; and then, feeling for it and not finding it, I was forced — with sorrow of heart 
— to go back to the place where I slept in my sleep, where I found it; and now I am 
come. 



TUE pilgrim's PROGKESS. ^1 

Port. Well, I will call out one of the vi renins of this place, ^vlio will, if slie likes 
your talk, bring you in to the rest of the family, according- to the rules of the house. 

So Watchful, the porter, rang a bell; at the sound of which came out of the door of 
the house a grave and beautiful damsel, named Discretion, and asked why she was 
-•ailed? 

The porter answered: This man* is on a journey from the city of Destruction to 
>[ount Zion, but, being weary and benighted, he asked me if he mieht lodge here to- 
night; so I told him I would call for thee, who — after discourse had with him — mayest 
do as seemeth tliee good, ''even according to the law of the house.'' 

Then she asked him whence he was and whither he was going, and he told her. She 
asked him, also, how he got into the way, and he told her. Then she asked him what 
he had seen and met with in the way, and he told her. And at last she asked his name. 
So he said. It is Christian; and I have so much the more a desire to lodge here to-night 
because, by what I perceive, this place was built by the Lord of the hill for the relief 
and security of pilgrims. So she smiled — but the ivafer stood in her eyes — and after a 
Jittle pause she said, I will call forth two or three more of the family." So she ran to 
the door and called out Prudence, Piety and Charity — who, after a little more discourse 
with him, had him in to the family; and many of tiiem, meeting him at the threshold 
of the house, said, ''Come in, thou blessed of the Lord; this house vras built by the 
Lord of the hill on purpose to entertain such pilgrims in." Then he bowed his head, 
and foUoAved them into the house. So, when he was come in and sat down, they gave 
him something to drink, and consented together that — until supper was ready — some of 
them should have some particular discourse with Christian, for the best improvement 
of time. Arid they appointed Piety and Prudence and Charity to discourse with him; 
and thus they began : 

Piety. Come, good Christian, since we have been so loving to yon as to receive you 
into our house this night, let us — if, perhaps, we may better ourselves therel)y — talk 
with you of all things that have happened to you in your pilgrimage. 

Chr. With a very good will; and I am glad that you are so well disposed. 

Piety. What moved you at first to betake yourself to a pilgrim's life. 

Chr. I was driven out of my native country by a dreadful sound that was in mine 
ears ; to wit, that unavoidable destruction did attend me if I abode in that place where 
1 was. . • 

Piety. But how did it happen that you came out of your country this wny? 

Chr. It was as God would have it; for when I was under the fears of destruction I 
did not know whither to go; but by chance tiiere came a man — even to me, as I was 
trembling and weeping — whose name was Evangelist, and he directed me to the 
Wicket-gate, which else I should never have found, and so set me into the way that 
hath led me directly to this house. 

Piety. But did you not come by the house of the Interpreter? 

Chr. Yes, and did see such things there the remembrance of which will stick by 
me as long as I live — especially three things; to wit, how Christ, in despite of Satan, 
maintains his work of grace in the heart; how the man ha4 sinned himself quite out 
of hopes of God's mercy, and also the dream of him that thotight in his sleep the day 
of judgment was come. 

Piety. Why, did you hear him tell his dream ? 

Chr. Yes; and a dreadful one it was, I thought. It made my heart ache as he was 
telling of it, but yet I am glad I heard it. 

Piety. Was tiais all you saw at the house of the Interpreter? 

Chr. No. He took me, and had me where he showed me a stately palace, and how 
the people were clad in gold that were in it ; and how tltere came a venturous man and 
cut his way through the armed men that stood in the door to keep him out; and how 
he was bid to come in and win eternal glory. Methought those things did ravish my 
heart. I would have stayed at that good man's house a twelvemonth, but that I knew 
I had farther to go. 

Piety. And what saw you else in the way? 

Chr. Saw? Why, I went but a little farther and I saw One, as I thought in my 
mind, hang bleeding upon the tree; and the very sight of him made my burden fall ott' 
my back — for I groaned under a very heavy burden, but then it fell down from otF me. 
It was a strange thing to me, for I never saw such a thing before; yea, and while I stood 
looking up (for then I could not forbear looking), three shining ones came to me. One 
of them testified that my sins were forgiven me ; another stripped me of my rags and 



22 THE PILGRIM'S PROGKESS. 

: ave rac this broiclered coat "which you see, and the third set the mark which you see in 
my forehead and gave me this sealed roll. (And with that he plucked it out of his 
bosom.) 

Piety. But you saw more than this, did you not? 

Cur. The things that I have told you were the best— yet some other things I saw ; 
as, namely, I saw three men, Simple, Sloth and Presumption, lie asleep a little out of 
the way as I came, with irons upon tiieir heels ; but do you think I could awake them? 
I also saw Formality and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall — to go, as they pre- 
tended, to Zion; but they were quickly lost, even as I myself did tell them but they 
would not believe. But, above all, I found it hard work to get up this hill, and as hard 
to come by the lions' mouths; and truly, if it had not been for the good man, the porter 
that stands at the gate, I do not know but that, after all, I might have gone back again. 
But I thank God I am here, and I thank you for receiving me. 

Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, and desired his answers to 
them. 

PRU. Do you not think sometimes of the country from Avhence you came? 

Chr. Yes; but with much shame and detestation. Truly, if I had been mindful of 
that country from whence I came out, I might have had opportunity to have returned; 
but now 1 desire a better country — that is, a heavenly (Heb. xi. 15, 16). 

Pru. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things that then you were con- 
versant withal ? 

Chr. Yes, but greatly against my will — especially my inward and carnal cogitations; 
with which all my countrymen, as we 1 as myself, Avere delighted. But now all those 
things are my grief, and — might I but choose mine own things — I would choose never 
to think of those things more ; but when I would be a-doing of that which is best, that 
which is worst is present with me (Pvom. vii. 21). 

Pru. Do you not find sometimes as if those things were vanquished, which at other 
times are your perplexit-^? 

Chr. Yes ; but that is but seldom. But they are to me golden hours in which such 
things happen to me. 

Pru. Can vou remember by what means you find your annoyances at times as if they 
were vanquished? 

Chr. Yes; when I thint what I saw at the cross, that will do it; and when I look 
upon my broidered coit, that wi 1 d > it; and when I look into the roll that I carry in 
my bosom, that will do it; and when my thoughts wax warm about whither I am going, 
that will do it. 

Pku. And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion? 

Chk. Why, h re I h(>pe to see him alive that did hang dead upon the cross; and 
there I hope to be rid of all those thing:? that to this day are in me an annoyance to me 
— there, they say, there is no death (isa. xxv. 8; Rev. xxi. 4), and there I shall dwell 
'with such company as I like best. For — to .e.l you truth — I love him because I was by 
him eased of my burden, and I am weary of m inw^ard sickness ; I would fain be where 
I shall die no mor ', a. id with the company that shall continually cry, Holy, holy, holy ! 

Then said Char.ty to Chri tian, Have you a famiiy .'' Are you a married man? 

Chr. I have a wife and four .-mail children. 

Cha. And why did not you bring them along with you? 

Then Christian wept, and said. Oh, how willin.;ly would I have done it! but they 
were, ail of th.m, utterly averse to m.y going on pilgrimage. 

Cha. But you should have talked to them, and have endeavored to have shown 
them the danger of staying behind. 

Chr. So I di 1 ; and toid ihem, also, what God had shown to me of the destruction 
of our city — but I seemed to tnem as one that mocked, and they believed me not (Gen. 
x.x. 14). 

Cha. And did you pray to God that he would bless your counsel to them? 

Chr. Yes, and that with much aii'.ction ; for you must think that my wife and poor 
ch.ldren were very dear to me! 

Cha. But did you tell them of your own sorrow and fear of destruction? — for I sup- 
pose tiiat (le truction was visible enough to you? 

Chr. Yes, over and over and over! Tney might also see my fears in my counte- 
nance, in my tears and also in my trembling under the apprehension of the judgment 
that did hang over our heads; but all was not sufficient to prevail with them to come 
with me. 



THE PILGRIM^S PROGRESS. 23 

Cha. But what could they say for themselves why they came not? 

Chr. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, and my children were given to 
the foolish delights of youth; so, what by one thing and what by another, they left me 
to wander in this manner alone. 

Cha. But did you not, with your vain life, damp all that you — by words — used by 
way of persua^on to bring them away with you? 

Chr. Indeed I cannot commend my life, lor I am conscious to myself of many fail- 
ings therein. I know, also, that a man, by his conversation, may soon overthrow what, 
by argument or persuasion, he doth labor to fasten upon others for their good. Yet, 
this 1 can say : I was very wary of giving them occasion, by any unseemly action, to 
make them averse to going on pilgrimage. Yea, for this very thing they would tell me 
I was too precise, and that I denied myself things — for their sakes — in which thev saw 
no evil. Nay, I think I may say that if what they saw in me did hinder them, it was 
my great tenderness in sinning against God or of doing any wrong to my neighbor. 

Cha. Indeed, Cain hated his brother because his own works were evil and his 
brother's righteous (I. Joim iii. 12); and if thy wife and children have been offended 
with thee for this, they thereby show themselves implacable to good — and thou hast de- 
livered thy soul from their blood (Ezek. iii. 19). 

Now I saw in my dream that thus they sat talking together until supper was ready. 
So, when they had made ready, they sat down to meat. Now, the table was furnished 
with fat things and with wine that was well-refined, and all their talk at the table was 
about the Lord of the hill ; as. namely, about what he had done, and wherefore he did 
what he did, and why he had builded that house; and, by what they said, I perceived 
that he had been a great warrior, and had fought with and slain him that had the 
power of death (Heb. ii. 14), but not without great danger to himself — which made me 
love him the more. 

For, as they said — And as I believe, said Christian—he did it with the loss of much 
blood. But that which put the glory of grace into all he did was that he did it out of 
pure love to his country. And, ueside, there were some of the household that said they 
had been and spoke with him since he did die on the cross ; and they have attested 
that they had it from his own lips, that he is such a lover of poor pilgrims that the like 
is not to be found from tlie east to the west. 

They, moreover, gave an instance of what they afiirmed; and that was, he had 
stripped himself of his glory that he might do this for the poor ; and that they heard 
him say and affirm that he would not dwell in the mountain of Zion alone. They said, 
moreover, that he had made many pilgrims princes; though by nature they were beg- 
gars born, and their origin had been the dunghill (I. Sam. ii. 8; Psalm cxiii. 7). 

Thus they discoursed together till late at night; and, after they had committed them- 
selves to their Lord for protection, they betook themselves to rest. The pilgrim they 
laid in a large upj^er chamber, whose wi*idow opened towards the sun-rising — the name 
of the chamber was Peace — where he slept till break of day; and then he awoke and 
sang: 

" Where am I now ? Is this the love and care 
Of Jesus, for ihe m n that pilgrims are 
Thus to provide ? That I sliall be forgiven, 
And dwell already the next door to heaven ! '* 

So in the morning they all got up ; and, after some more discourse, they to!c^ him 
that he should not depart till they had showed him the rarities of that place. And first 
they had him into the study, where they showed him records of the greatest antiquity; 
in which, as I remember my dream, they showed him the pedigree of the Lord of the 
hill — that he was the son of the Ancient of days and came by eternal generation. Here, 
also, were more fully recorded the acts that he had done, and the names of many hun- 
dreds that he had taken into his service; and how he had jdaced them in such habit- 
ations as could neither by length of days nor decays of nature be dissolved. 

Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that some of his servants had done ; 
as how they had subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped 
the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of tire, escaped the edge of the sword, out 
of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight and turned to flight the armies of 
the aliens (Heb. xi. 33, 34). 

Tnen they read again in another part of the records of the house where it was shown 
how wiping their Xx)rd was to receive into his favor any, even any, though they in time 
past had offered great affronts to his person and proceedings. Here also were several 



24 THE pilgrim's PEOGRESS. 

other histories of many famous things, of all which Christian had a view : as of things 
both ancient and modern, together with prophecies and predictions of things that have 
their certain accomplishment, both to the dread and amazement of enemies, and the 
comfort and bolace of pilgrims. 

The next day tliey took him and had him into the armory, where they showed him 
all manner of furniture which the Lord had provided for pilgrims, as sword, shield 
helmet, breast-plate, and all-prayer, and shoes that would not wear out. And there 
was here enough of this to harness out as many men for the service of their Lord as 
there be stars in the heaven for multitude. 

They also showed him some of the engines with which some of his servants had done 
wonderful things. They showed him Moses' rod ; the hammer and nail with which 
Jael slew Sisera ; the pitcher, trumpets, and lamps too, with which Gideon put to flight 
the armies of Midian. Then they showed him the ox's goad wherewith Shamgar slew 
six hundred men. They showed him also the jaw-bone with which Samson did such 
mighty feats; they showed him, moreover, the sling and stone with which David slew 
Goliah of Gath ; and the sword also with which the Lord will kill the Man of Sin in the 
day that he shall rise up to the prey. They showed him besides many excellent things, 
with which Christian was much delighted. This done, they went to their rest again. 

Then I saw in my dream, that on the morrow he got up to go forward, but they de- 
sired him to stay till the next day also; and then, said they, we will if the day be clear, 
show you the Delectable Mountains ; which, they said, would yet further add to his 
comfort, because they were nearer the desired haven than the place where at present 
he was ; so he consented, and stayed. 

When the morning was uj:* they had him to the top of the house and bid him look 
south ; so he did, and, behold, at agreat distance (Isaiah xxxiii. 16, 17), he saw a most 
})lcasant mountainous country, beautified Avith woods, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, 
flowers also, with springs and fountains, very delectable to behold. Then he asked the 
name of the country. They said it was ImmanueFs Land ; and it is as common said 
they, as this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou comest there, from 
thence thou mayest see to the gate of the celestial city, as the shepherds that live there 
will make appear. 

Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were willing he should. But 
first, said they, let us go again into the armory. So they did; and when they came 
there they harnessed him from head to foot with what was of proofs lest perhaps he 
should meet with assaults in the way. He being therefore thus accoutred, walked out 
with his friends to the gate, and there he asked the Porter if he saw any pilgrim pass 
by? Then the Porter answered. Yes. 

Chr. Pray, did you know him? 

PoR. 1 asked his name, and he told me it was Faithful. 

Chr. Oh, said Christian, I know him ; he is my townsman, my near neighbor, he 
comes from the place where I was born. How far do you think he may be before? 

POR. He is g<jt by this time below the hill. 

Chr. Well, said Christian, good Porter, the Lord be with thee, and add to all thy 
blessings much increase for the kindness that thou hast showed to me. 



THE FOURTH STAGE. 

Then he began to go forward, but Disci etion, Piety, Charity and Prudence would 
accompany him down to the foot of the hill. So they went on together, repeating their 
former discourses, till they came to go down the IjI 1. Then said Christian, as it was 
difiicult coming up, so, so far as I can see, it is dangerous going down. Yes, said Pru- 
dence, so it is; for it is a hard matter for a man to go down into the valley of Humili- 
ation, as thou art now, and to catch no slip by the way; therefore, said they, ^^e arc 
come out to accompany thee down the hill. So he began to go do down, but very 
wearily, yet he caught a slip or two. 

Then I saw in my dreams that those good companions, when Christsan was got down 
to the bottom of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of 
raisins; and then he went on his way. 

Whilst Christian is among his godly friends, 

Their golden mouths make him sufficient mends 

For all griefs: and wiien they let him go, 

He's clad wita nortlierD stoci fi-oni loplto toe. 



THE pilgrim's progress. 25 

But now, in this valley of Humiliation, Christian was hard put to it; for he had gone 
but a little way before he espied a foul fiend coming over the field to meet him; liis 
name is Apollyon. Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to ca^t in his mind 
whetlier to go back or to stand his ground. But lie considered again that he had no 
armor for his back, and therefore thought that to turn his back to him might give him 
greater advantage, with ease, to pierce him with his darts; therefore he resolved to 
venture and stand his ground; for, thought he, had I no more in mine eye than the sav- 
ing of my life, it would be the best way to stand. 

So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the monster was hideous to behold; he 
was clothed with scales like a fish, and they are his pride; he had wings like a dragon, 
feet like a bear, and out of his belly came fire and smoke, and his mouth was as the mouth 
of a lion. When he was come up to Christian he beheld him with a disdainful counte- 
nance, and thus began to question him. 
Apol. Whence came you, and whither are you bound ? 

Chr. I am come from the city of Destruction, which is the place of all evil, and am 
going to the city of Zion. 

Apol. By this I perceive that thou art one of my subjects; for all that country is 
mine and I am the prince and god of it. How is it then that thou hast run away from 
thy king? Were it not that I hope thou mayest do me more service I would strike thee 
now at one blow to the ground. 

Chr. I was indeed born in your dominions, but your service was hard, and your 
wages such as a man could not live on; for the wages of sin is death (Rom vi. 23); 
therefore when I was come to years I did as other considerate persons do, look out if 
pei-haps I might mend myself. 

Apol. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his subjects, neither Avill I as yet 
lose thee; but since thou complainest of thy service and wages, be content to go back; 
what our country will afibrdl do here promise to give thee. 

Chr. But I have let myself to another, even to the King of princes; and how can I 
with fairness go back with thee? 

Apol. Thou hast done in this according to the proverb, " Changed a bad for a 
worse ;" but it is ordinary for those that have professed themselves his servants after a 
while to give him the slip and return again tome. Do thou so too, and all shall be 
well. 

Chr. I have given him my faith and sworn my allegiance to him ; how then can I 
go back from this and not be hanged as a traitor? 

Apol. Thou didst the same by me, and yet I am willing to pass by all if now thou 
wilt yet turn again and go back. 

Chr. What I promised thee was in my non-age; and besides, I count thatthe prince 
umier whose banner I now stand is able to dissolve me; yea, and to pardon also what 
i did as to my compliance with thee, and besides, Oh, thou destroying Apollyon, to speak 
truth I like his service, his wages, liis servants, his government, his company and 
country better than thine! Therefore leave oft* to persuade me further; 1 am his serv- 
ant and J will follow him. 

Apol. Consider again when thou art in cool blood, what thou art like to meet with 
in the way that thou goest. Tnou knovvest that, for the most part, his servants come to 
an ill end, because they are transgressors against me and my ways. How many of them 
liave been put to shameful deaths! And besides, thou countest his service better than 
mine ; whereas he never yet came from the place where he is to deliver any that served 
him out of their enemies' hands; but as for me, how many times, as all the world very 
well knows, have 1 delivered, either by power or fraud, those that have faithfully served 
me, from h m and his, though taken by them ; and so will I deliver thee. 

Chr. His forbearing at present to deliver them is on purpose to try their love, 
whether they will cleave to him to the end; and as for the ill end thou sayest they come 
to, that is most glorious in their account. For, for ])resent deliverance, they do not 
much expect ii; for they s^a^/ for their glory ; and then they shall have it when their 
Prince comes in his and the glory of the angels. 

Apol. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to him; and how dost thou 
think to receive wages of him? 
Chr. Wherein, O Apollyon, have I been unfaithful to liini ? 

Ap. L. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou was almost choked in the 
slough of Despond. Thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy burden, whereas 
thou shouldest liave stayed till thy Prince had taken it oft" Thou didst sinfully sleep 



26 THE pilgrim's progress. 

and lose thy choice thincrs. Thou wast almost persuaded to go back at the sight of the 
lions ; an J when thou talkestof ihy journey, and of what thou hast heard and seen, thou 
art inwardly desirous of vain glory in all that thou sayest or doest. 

Chr. All this is true, and much more which thou hast left out; but the Prince 
whom I serve and honor is merciful and ready to forgive. But beside these infirmities 
possessed me in thy country, for there I sucked them in and I have groaned under 
them, being sorry for them, and have obtained pardon of my Prince. 

Apol. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, I am an enemy to this 
Prince ; I hate his person, his laws and people; I am come out on purpose to with- 
stand thee. 

^ Chr. Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the King's highway, the way of ho- 
liness; therefore take heed to yourself. 

Apol. Then ApoTyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way, and said, 
I am void of fear in this matter. Prepare thyself to die, for I swear by my infernal den 
thou shalt go u ) farther; here will I spiil thy soul. And with that he threw a flaming 
dart at his breast; but Christian had a shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and 
so prevented the danger of that. 

Then did Christian draw, for he saw it was time to bestir him; and Apolkv^ou as fast 
made at him, throwing darts as thick as hail; by the which, notwithstanding all that 
Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in his head, his hand and foot. 
This made Christian give a little back. Apollyon, therefore, followed his work amain, 
and Christian again took courage and resisted as manfully as he could. This sore com- 
bat lasted for above half a day, even until Christian was almost quite spent; for you 
must know that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker and 
weaker. 

Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up close to Christian, and 
wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall, aud with that Ciiristian's sword flew out 
of his hand. Then said Apollyon, I am sure of thee now ; and with that he had almost 
pressed him to death, so that Christian began to despair of life. But as God would 
have it, while Apollyon was fetching his last blow, thereby to make a full end of this 
good man, Christian nimbly reached out his hand for his sword and caught it, saying, 
Rejoice not against me, Oh, mine enemy ! when I fall I shall arise ! (Mic. vii. 8.) And 
with that gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give back as one that had received 
his mortal wound. Christian, perceiving that, made at him again, saying. Nay, in all 
these things Ave are more than conquerors through him that loved us. (RonLSiii. 37, 
39.; James iv. 7.) And, with that, Apollyon spread forth his dragon's wings and sped 
him away, that Christian saw him no more. 

In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard, as I did, what 
yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon made all the time of the fight; he spake like a 
dragon; and, on the other side, what sighs and groans burst from Christian's heart. I 
never saw him all the while give so much as one pleasant look till he perceived he had 
wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword ; then indeed he did smile and look up- 
ward ! But it was the dreadfullest sight that I ever saw. 

So when the battle was over. Christian said, I will here give thanks to him that hath 
delivered me out of the mouth of the lion, to him that did help me against Apollyon. 
Aud so he did, saying — 

Great Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend, 
Dccign'd my ruiu ; therefore to this end 
He sent him harnessed out ; and he witu rage 
That hellish was, did fiercely me engage; 
But blessed Michael helped me, and J, 
By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly; 
Theretor*^ to him let me give lasting praise, 
And thank and bless his holy name always. 

Then there came to him a hand with some of the leaves of the Tree of Life, the 
which Christian tooli and ai>plied to the wounds that he had received in the battle, and 
was healed immediately. He also sat down in that place to eat bread, and to drink of 
the bottle that was given him alittle before ; so being refreshed, he addressed himself 
to his journey with his sword drawn in his hand ; for he said, I know not but some 
other enemy may be ut hudr But he met with no other aiiront from Apollyou quite 
through this valley. 



THE PILGRIM'S PEOGRESS. 27 

Now, at t]ie ond of. this valley, was another, called the valley of the Shadow of 
Death ; and Christian must needs go throusjli it, because the way to the Celestial City 
lay through the midst of it. Now, this valley is a very solitary place. The prophet 
Jeremiah thus describes it: ''A wilderness, a land of deserts and of pits; a Jand of 
drought, and of the Shadow of Death; aland that no man (but a Christian) passeth 
through, and where no man ever dwelt." (Jer. ii. 6.) 

Now, here Christian ^vas worse put to it than in his fight with Apollyon ; as by the 
sequel you shall see. 

1 saw then in my dream that when Christian was got to the borders of the Shadow 
of Deatj, there met him two men, children of them that brought up "an evil report of 
the good land" (Numb, xiii.), making haste to go back; to whom Christian K})oke as 
follows: 

Che. Wliiilier are you going? 

Mex. They said. Back! back! and we would have you to do so, if either life or 
peace is priced by you. 

Why, what's the matter? said Christian. 

Men. Matter ! said tliey ; we were going the way that jow are going, and went as far 
as W" durst; and indeed we were almost past comincr back; for had we gone a iitcle. 
farther, we would not been here to bring the news to li^ee. 

Ikit what liave you met witJi? said Christian. 

Men. Wliy, we were almost in the valley of the Shadow of Death (Psalm xWv. 19); 
but that by good liap we did look befo e us, and saw the danger before we came to it.. 

But what have you seen? s dd Cliristian. 

Men, Seen! why the valiey itse f, M-hich is as dark as pitch; we also saw there 
th« hobgoblins, satyrs, and dragons of the pit; we lieard also in that valley a continued 
howliui? and yelling, as of a ])eo])le under unutterable misery, who sat tiiere bound in 
affliction andirons; and over that valley hang the discouraging clouds of confusion; 
Death also doth always spread his w ngs over it. (Job. iii. 5; x. 22.) In a word, it is 
every whit dreadful, being utterly without order. 

Then said Christian, I perceive not yet, by what you have said, but that this is my 
way to the desired haven. 

Men. Be it tny way; w-e will not choose it for ours. 

So they parted; and Christian wtnt on his way, but still with his sword drawn in his 
hand, for tear lest he should be assaulted. 

I saw then in my dream that so far as this valley '"=* a died there was on tiie righ hand 
a very de p ditch: tiiat di:ch is it into v>'hiea the blind have led the blind in all ages, 
and have both there mi-erably perished. Again, beiio>d, on the left hand there was a 
very dangerous quag, into which even if a good man falls he finds no bottom for his 
foot to stand on; into tiiat quag King David once did fall, and ha-.i, no doubt, there- 
in been smothered had not He that is able placked him out. (Psalms Ixix. 14.) 

The pathway was here also exceedingly narrow, and therefore good Cnristian was 
the more put to it; for when he sou ht in tke dark to shun the ditcii on the one hand, 
he was ready to tip over into the mire on the other; also w^iien lie sougat to esc..}.>e 
the mire, without great carefulness he would be ready to fall into the di.ch. Thus he 
Avent on, and 1 heard him sigh bit!!terly ; for besides the dangers mentioned above, the 
pathway w..s here so dark, that ofttimes, wdien he lifted his foot up to set forward, he 
knew not where, or upon what, he shouid set it next. 

About the midst ot this valley I perceived the mouth of hell to be, and it st^cd also 
hard by the way.- ide. Now, thought Christian, what shall I do? And ever a;;-, anon 
the flames and' smoke would come out in such abundance, with sparks and hjr pqus 
noises (things that cared not for Christian's sword, as did Apoliyon before), tnat he wa^: 
forced to put up his sword, and betake himself to another weapon, called All-prayer; 
so he cried in my hearing, '^ O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my soul!" (Psalm cxvi. 
4; Eph.vi. 11.) 

Thus he went on a great while, yet still the flames would be reaching toward him; 
also he heard doleiul voices, and rushiugs to and fro, so that sometimes he thought he 
should be torn in pieces, or trodden down like mire in the Sireets. This frightful 
sight was seen, and tlipse dreadful noises w^ere heard by liim, for several miles to- 
gether; and coming to a place where he thought he heard a company of fiends coming 
forward to meet him he stoi)ped and began to muse what he hud best do. Someti'^ies 
he had half a thought to go back; then again he thought he might be halfway through 
the valley; he remembered also how he had already vanquished many a danger; and. 



the (lan^^ei* of gbm^ back might be miicli more than for to go forward. So he resolved 
to go on; yet the fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer; but when they were come 
even almost at him, he cried ont with most a vehement voice, " I will walk in the 
strength of the Lord God." So they gave back, and came no farther. 

One thing I would not let slip; I took notice that now poor Christian was so con- 
founded that he did not know his own voice; and thus I perceived it; just when he 
was come over against the mouth of the burning pit, one of the Wicked Ones got behind 
him, and stepped up softly to him, and whisperingly suggested many grievous blas- 
phemies to him, which he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind. This put 
Christian more to it than anything that he had met with before; — even to think: that he 
should now blaspheme him that he had loved so much before; yet if he could have 
helped it, he would not have done it; but he had not the discretion either to stop his 
ears, or to know from whence those blasphemies came. 

When Christian had traveled in this disconsolate condition for some considerable 
time, he thought he heard the voice of a man, as going before him, saying, '* Though I 
walk through the valley of the Shadow of Death, I will feer no ill, for thou art with 
me." (Psalm xxiii. 4.) 

Then was he glad, and that for these reasons: 

First, Because he gathered from thence, that some who feared God were in this val- 
ley as well as himself. 

Secondly, For that he perceived that God was with them, though in that dark and 
dismal state ; and why not, thought he, with me ; though by reason of the impediment 
that attends this place, I cannot perceive it. (Job ix. 11.) 

Thirdly, For that he hoped (could he overtake them) to have company by and by. 

So he went on, and called to him that was before; but he knew not what to answer, 
for that he also thought himself to be alone. And by and by the day broke; then said 
Christian, He hath "turned the shadow of death into the morning (Amos v. 8.) 

Now morning being come, he looked back, not out of desire to return, but to see, by 
the light of the day, what hazards he had gone through in the dark; so he saw more 
perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand, and the quag that was on the other; also 
how narrow the Avay was w^hich led betwixt them both ; also now he saw the hobgob- 
lins, and satyrs, and the dragons of the pit, but ail afar off; for after break of day they 
came not nigh ; yet they were discovered to him, according to that w^iich was written, 
*He discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the shadow of 
death." (Jobxii. 22.) 

Now was Christian much affected with this deliverance from all the dangers of hia 
solitary way; which dangers, though he feared them much before, yet he saw them 
clearly now, loecause the light of the day made them conspicuous to him And about 
this time the sun was rising, and this Avas another mercy to Christian ; for you must note, 
that, though the first part of the valley of the Shadow of Death was dangerous, yet 
this second part, which he was yet to go, was, if possible, far nwre dangerous ; for, 
from the place where he now stood, even to the end of the valley, the way was all 
along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets here; and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep 
holes, and sheivings down there, that had it now been dark, as it was when he came 
the first part of the way, had he had a thousand souls, they had in reason been cast 
away; but, as I said, just now the sun was rising. Then said he, *'His candle shin eth 
on my head, and by his light I go through darkness. (Job xxix. 3.) 

In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the valley. Now I saw in my dream 
that at the end of the valley layblood, bones, ashes, and mangled, bodies of men, even 
of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly. And while I was musing what should be 
the reason I espied a little before me a cave, where two giants, Pope and Pagan, dwelt 
in olden times, by whose power and tyranny the men, whose bones, blood, ashes, <fee., 
lay there, were cruelly put to death. But by this place Christian went without much 
danger; whereat 1 somewhat wondered; but I have learned since that Pagan has been 
dead many a day; and as for the other, though he be yet alive, he is by reason of age, 
and also of the many shrewd brushes that he met with in his younger days, grown so 
crazy and stiff in his joints that he can now do little more than sit in his cave's mouth, 
grinning at pilgrims as they go by, and biting his nails because he cannot come at 
them. 

So I saw that Christian went on his way; yet, at the sight of the old man that sat at 
the mouth of the cave he could not tell what to think, especially because he spoke to 
him, though he could not go after him, saying ** You will aever mend till more of you 



THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. 25 

be burnt." But he held his peace, and seta good face on it; and so went by an , 
catched no hurt. Then sang Christian — 

Oh, world of wonders! (I can say no less,) 

That I should be preserved in that distress 

That I have met with here ! Oh, blessed be 

That hand that from it hath delivered me I 

Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin, 

Did compass me while 1 this vale was in : 

Yea, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets did lie 

My path about, that worthless, silly I 

Might have been catch'd, entangled, and cast down7 

But since I live, let Jesus wear the crown. 



THE FIFTH 8TAGR. 

Now, as Christian went on his way, he came to a little ascent, which was cast up on 
purpose that pilgrims might see before them; up there, therefore, Chrisian went; and 
looking forward he saw Faithful before hirn upon his journey. Then said Christian 
aloud, '^Ho, ho! so-ho! stay, and I will be your companion." At that Faithful looked 
behind him; to whom Christian cried again, ''Stay, stay, till I come up to you." 
But Faithful answered, ''No, lam upon my life, and the avenger of blood is behind 
me." 

At this Christian was somewhat moved, and, putting to all his strength, he quickly 
got up with Faithful, and did also overrun him; so the last was first. Then did Chris- 
tian vaingloriousiy smile, because he had gotten the start of his brother; but not taking 
good heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not rise again, until 
Faithful came up to help him. 

Then I saw in my dream, they went very lovingly on together, and had sweet dis- 
course of all things that happened to them in their pilgrimage ; and tiius Christian be- 
gan. 

Chr. My honored and well-beloved brother Faithful, I am glad that I have over- 
taken you, and that God has so tempered our spirits that we can walk as companions 
in this so pleasant a path. 

Faith. I had thought, dear friend, to have had your company quite from our t^wn, 
but yoti did get the start of me; wherefore 1 was forced to come thus much of the way 
alone. 

Chr. How long did you stay in the City of Destruction, before you set out after me 
on your pilgrimage? 

Faith. Till I could stay no longer; for there was a great talk presently after you 
were gone out that our city would in a short time, with lire from heaven, be burned 
down to the ground. 

Chr. What! did your neighbors talk so? 

Faith. Yes, it was for a while in everybody's mouth. 

Chr, What! and did no more of them but you come out to escape the danger. 

Faith. Though there was, as I said, a great talk thereabout, yet I do not think they 
did firmly believe it; for, in the heat of the discourse, I heard some of them deridingiy 
speak of you and your desperate journey (for so they called this pilgrimage). But [ 
did believe, and do still, that the end of our city will be with fire and brimstone from 
above ; and therefore I have made my escape. 

Chr. Did you hear no talk of neighbor Pliable^ 

Faith. Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed you till he came to the slough of 
Despond, where, as some said, he fell in; but he would not be known to have so done; 
but I am sure he was roundly bedabbled with that kind of dirt, 

Chr. And what said the neighbors to him? 

Faith. He hath, since his going back, been had greatly in derision, and that among 
all sorts of people ; some do mock and despise him, and scarce will set him on any work. 
He is now seven times worse than if he had never gone out of the city. 

Chr. But why should they be so set against him, since they also despise the way that 
he forsook? 

Faith. Oh, they say, "Hang him; he is a turn-coat; he was not true to his profes- 
sion ! " I think God has stirred up even his enemies to hiss at him and make him a 
proverb, because he hath forsaken the way. ( Jer. xxix. 18, 19.) 



30 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Chk. Had you no talk with him before you came out? 

Faith. I met him once in the streets, but he leered away on the other side as one 
a hamed of Avhathe had done; so I spake not to him. 

Chr. Well, at my firs, setting out I had hopes of that man; but now I fear he will 
perish in the overthrow of the city. For it has happened to him according to the true 
proverb, " The dog is turned to his vomit again, and the sow that was washed to her 
wallowing in the mire.'' (II. Peter ii. 22.) 

Faith. These ; re my fears of him, too; but who can liinder that which will be? 

Chr. Well, neighbor Faithful, said Christian, let us leave him and talk of things 
that more immediately concern ourselves. Tell me now Avhat you have met within 
I he way as you came; for I know you have met with some things, or else it may be 
writ for a wonder. 

Faith, x escaped the slough that I perceived you fell into, and got up to the gate 
without that danger; only I met with one whose nam^ was Wanton, that had liked to 
have done me a mischief. 

Chr. It* was well you escaped her net; Joseph was hard put to it by her, and he es- 
caped her as you did ; but it had liked to have cost him his life. (Gen. xxxix. 11-13.) 
But what did she do to you ? 

Faith. Yo^j. cannot think (but that you know something ) what a flattering tongue 
she had! She lay at me hard to turn aside with her; promising me all manner of 
content. 

Chr. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a good conscience. 

Faith. You know that I mean all carnal and fleshly content. 

Chr. Thqnk God you have escaped her; '' the abhorred of the Lord shall fall into 
her pit." (Prov. xxii*. 14.) 

Faith. Nay, I know not whether I did wholh^ escape her, or no. 

Chr. Why, I trow you did not consent to her desires. 

Faith. No, not to defile myself, for I remembered the old writing that I had seen, 
which said, ^^Her steps take hold of hell." (Prov. v. 5; Job xxxi. 1.) So I shut mine 
eyes, because I would not be bewitched with her looks; then she railed on me, and I 
went my way. 

Chr. Did }"ou meet with no other assault as you came? 

Faith. When I came to the foot of the hill called D fflculty Imet with avery aged 
man, who asked rae what I was and whilher bound. I told him that I was a pilgrim 
going to the celestial city. Then said the old man. Thou lookest like fin honest fellow; 
wilt thou be content to dwell with me for the wages I blmll give thee ? Then I asked 
his name and where he dwelt. He siid liis name was Adam the First, and that he 
dwelt in the town of deceit. (Eph. iv. 22.) I asked him then, what was h's work, and 
waat the wages that he would give. He told me that lis work \\i\^ many delights ; and 
his wages, that I should be his heir at last. I furt er asked him what house he kept, 
and what other servants he h id. So he (old me that his house wns maintained with all 
the dainties of the world, and that his servants were those of his own begetting. Tiien 
I asked how many children he had. He said that he had but thr( e daughters, "Tne 
Lust of the Flesh, the Last of the Eyes, and t.;e Pride of Life" (I. John ii. IG), and 
that I should marry them if I would. Then I asked how long a time he would have 
me live with him. And he told me, as long as lie lived himself. 

Chr. AVell, and what conclusion came the old man and you to at last? 

Faith. Why, at first I found myself somewlintinclinnble to go with the man, for I 
thought he spoke very fair; but looking i i his forehead as I talked with him I saw 
there written, *' Put off the old man with his deeds." 

Chr. And how then? 

Faith. Then it came burning hot into my mind that, whatever he said and however 
lie flittered, when he got me home to his house he would sell me for a slave. Sol bid 
him forbear to talk, for I would not come near the door of his house. Then he reviled 
me, and told me that he would send such a one after me that s ould make my way 
l)itter to my soul. S:) I turned to go away from him, but just as I turned myself to go 
thence I felt him take hold of my flesh and give me such a deadly twitch back that I 
thought he had pulled part of me after himself; this made me cry, "Oh, wretched 
man !" (Pom. vii. 24.) So I went on my way up the hill. 

Now, when I had got about half way up I looked behind me and saw one coming 
after me swift as the wind; so he overtook me just about the place where the settle 
standSn 



THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. 31 

Chr. Just there, said Christian, did I sit down to rest me ; but being overcome with 
sleep I there lost this roll out ot my bosom. 

Faith. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as the man overtook me it was but 
a word and a blow; for down he knocked me, and laid me for dead. But when I was 
a little came to myself again I asked him wherefore he served me so. He said, because 
of my secret inclining to Adam the First: and with that he struck me another < eadly 
blow on the breast and beat me down backward; so I lay at his foot as dead as belore. 
So when I came to myself again I cried him mercy, but he sa d, '^ I know not how to 
show mercy;'' and with that knocked me down again. He had doubtless made an 
end of me but that one came by and bid him forbear. 
Chr. Who was that that bid him forbear ? 

Faith. I did not know him at firs*-, but as he went by I perceived the holes in hU 
hands and in his sides; then 1 concluded that he was our Lord. So I went up the hill. 
Chr. That man that overtook you was Moses. He spareth none, neither kiwwetli 
he how to show mercy to those tliat trangress his law. 

Faith. I know it very well; it was not the first time that he had met with me. It 
was he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me he would 
burn my house over my head if I stayed there. 

Cbr, But did you not see the house that stood there on the top of the hill, on the 
side of which Moses met you. 

Faith. Yes, and the lions too, before I jame at it; but, for the lions, I think they 
were asleep, for it was about noon; and, because I had so muc^ of the day before me, 
I passed by the Porter and came down the hill. 

Chr. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by; but I wish you had called at 
the house, for they would have showed you so many rarities that j^ou would scarce 
have forgot them to the day of your death. But pray tell me, did you meet nobody in 
the valley of Humility? 

Faith. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would willingly have persuaded me to 
go back again with him; his reason was, for that the valley was altogether without 
honor. He told me, moreover, that there to go, was the way to disobey all my friends, 
as Pride, Arroganey, Self-conceit, Worldly-glory with others, who he knew, as he said, 
would be very much offended if I made such a'fool of myself as to wade through this 
valley. 
Chr. Well, and how did you answer him? 

Faith. I told him that although all these that he named might claim a kindred of 
me, and that rightly (for indeed they were my relations according to the fiesh), yet 
since I became a pilgrim they have disowned ine, and I also have rejected them, and 
therefore they were to me now no more than if they had never been of my lineage. 
I told him, moreover, that as to this valley he had quite misrepresented the thing; for 
''before honor is humility," and "a haughty spirit before a fall." Therefore, said^ I, 1 
h id rather go through this valley to the honor that was so accounted by the Wisest, 
liian choose that which he esteemed most worthy of our affections. 
Chr. Met you with nothing else in that valley? 

Faith. Yes, I met with Shame ; but of all the men that I met with on my pilgrimage 
he, I think, bears the wrong name. The other would be said nay, after a little argumen- 
tation and somewhat else; but this boldfaced Shame would never have done. 
Chr. Why, what did he say to you ? 

Faith. What! why he objected against religion itself; he said it was a pitiful, low, 
sneaking business for a man to mind religion. He said that a tender conscience was an 
unmanly thing, and that for a man to watch over his words and ways so as to tie up 
himself from that hectoring liberty that the brave spirits of the times accustom them- 
selves unto, would make him the ridicule of the times. He objected also that but few 
of the mighty, rich or wise were ever of my opinion; nor any of them neither, before 
they were persuaded to be fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness to venture the loss 
of all for nobody knows what. (John vii. 48; I. Cor. i. 26, iii. 18; Phil. iii. 7-9.) He 
moreover objected the base and low estate and condition of those that were chiefly 
the pilgrims of the times in which they lived; also their ignorance and want of un- 
derstanding in all natural science. Yea, he did hold me to it at that rate also about a 
great many more things than I here relate ; as, that it was a shame to sit whining and 
mourning under a sermon, and a shame to come sighing and groaning home; that it 
was a shame to ask my neighbor forgiveness for petty faults, or to make restitution 
where I had taken from any. He said also that religion made a man grow strange to the 



32 THE PILG-EIM^S PROGBESS. 

Great because of a few vices, which he called by finer names; and made him own and 
respect the base, because of the same religious fraternity; and is not this, said he, a 
shame ? 

Chr. And what did you say to him ? 

Faith. Say? I could not tell what to say at first. Yea, he put me so to it that 
mv blood came up in my face ; even this Shame fetched it up, and had also beat me 
qiiite off. But at last I 'began to consider, that that which is highly esteemed among 
men is had in abomination with God. (Luke xvi. 15.) And I thought again, this 
Shame tells me what men are, but he tells me nothing what God or the word of God is. 
And I thought, moreover, that at the day of doom we shall not be doomed to death or 
Irfe according 'to the hectoring spirits of the world, but according to the wisdom and 
law of the Highest. Therefore, thought I, what God says is best, indeed is best, though 
all the men in the world are against it. Seeing, then, that God prefers his own religion ; 
seeing God prefers a tender conscience ; seeing they that make themselves fools for the 
kingdom of heaven are wisest; and that the poor man that loveth Christ is richer than 
the greatest man in the world that hates him; Shame ! depart, thou art an enemy to my 
salvation; shall I entertain thee against my sovereign Lord? how then shall I look him 
i'l the face at his coming? Should I now *be ashamed of his Avays and servants how 
can I expect the blessing? (Maik viii. 38.) But indeed this Shame wns a bold villian ; 
I could scarcely shake him out of my company; yea, he would be hunting of me and 
continually wiiispering me in the ear with some one or other of the infirmities that at- 
tend religion. B\it at last I told him that it was but in vain to attempt further in this 
business; for those things that he disdained, in those did I see most glory; and so at 
last I got past this importunate one. And when I had shaken him off then I began to 
sing: 

The trials that those men do meet withal 
That are obedient to the heavenly call, 
Are manifold, and suited to the flesb, 
And come, and come, and come again afresh; 
That now, or sometime else, we by them may 
Be taken, overcome, and cast away. 
Oh, let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims then, 
Be vigilant, and quit themselves like men. 

Chr. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst withstand this villian so bravely; for of 
all, as thou sayest, I think he has the wrong name; for he is so bold as to follow us into 
the streets, and to attempt to put us to shafne before all men ; that is, to make us 
ashamed of that which is good. But if he was not himself audaciotis he would never 
attempt to do as he does ; but let us still resist him, for, notwithstanding all his brava- 
does, lie promotetli the fool and none else. The wise shall inherit glory, said Solomon, 
but shame shall be the promotion of fools. (Prov. iii. 35.) 

Faith. I think we must cry to Him lor help against Shame, that would have us to 
be valiant for truth upon the earth. 

Chk. You say true; but did you meet nobody else in that valley? 

Faith. No, not I; for I had sunshine all the rest of the way through that, and also 
through the valley of the Shadow of Death. 

Chk. Twas AveJl for you ; I am sure it fared far otherwise with me. I had for a Ion? 
season, as soon almost as I entered into that valley, a dreadful combat with that foul 
iiend Apollyon ; yea, I thought verily he Avould have killed me, especially when he got 
me down and crushed me under him, as if he would have crushed me to pieces; for as 
he threw me my sw^ord flew^ out of my hand ; nay, he told me he was sure of me ; but I 
cried to God, and he heard me, and delivered me out of all my trotibles. Then I en- 
tered into the valley of the Shadow of Death, and had no light for almost half the 
way through it. I thought I should have been killed there over and over ; but at last 
day broke, and the sun rose, and I went throtigh that which was behind with far more 
ease and quiet. 

Moreover, I saw in my dream that as they went on, Faithful, as he chanced to look 
on one side, saw a man whose name is Talkative walking at a distance beside them, for 
in this place there was room enough for them all to walk. He w^s a tall man, and 
something more comely at a distance than at hand. To this man Faithful addressed 
himself in this manner: 

Faith. Friend, whither away? Are you going to the heavenly country? 

Talk. I am going to the sam'e place. 



THE PILGIIIM'S PROGRESS. 33 

Faith. That is well; then I hope we shall have your good companj. 
Talk. With a very good will, will I be your companion. 

Faith. Come on, then, and let us go together, and let us spend our time in discours- 
ing of things that are profitable. 

Talk. To talk of things that are good, to me is very acceptable, with jou, or with 

; any other; and 1 am glad that I have met with those that incline to so good a work; 

' . for, to speak the truth, there are but few who care thus to spend their time as they 

are in their travels, but choose much rather to be speaking of things to no profit; and 

this hath been a trouble to me. 

Faith. That is, indeed, a thing to be lamented ; for what things so worthy of the 
use of the tongue and mouth of men on earth, as are the things of the God of 
heaven ? 

Talk. I like you wonderfully well, for your sayings are full of conviction ; and I 
will add, what thing is so pleasant, and what so profitable, as to talk of the things of 
God? What things so pleasant ?'' that is, if a man hath any delight in things tliat 
are wonderful. For instance: if a man doth love to talk of the history or the mystery 
of things ; or if a man doth love to talk of miracles, wonders, or signs, where shall he 
find things recorded so delightful, and so sweetly penned, as in the holy scripture? 

Faith. That's true ; but to be i^i'ofited by such things in our talk should be that 
which we design. 

Talk. That is it that I said ; for to talk of such things is most profitable ; for by so 
doing a man may get knowledge of many things ; as, of the vanity of earthly thiugs, 
and the benefit of things above. Thus in general ; but more particularly, by tliis a 
man may learn the necessity of the new birth, the insufficiency of our works, the need 
of Christ's righteousness, etc. Besides, by this a man may learn what it is to repent, 
to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like : by this also a man may learn what are the 
great promises and consolations of the gospel, to his own comfort. Further, by this a 
man may learn to refute false opinions, to vindicate the trutii, and also to instruct the 
ignorant. 
Faith. All this is true ; and glad am I to hear these things from you. 
Talk. Alas ! the want of this is the cause that so few understand the need of faith, 
and the necessity of a work of grace in their soul, in order to eternal life ; but igno- 
rantly live in the works of the law, by which a man can by no means obtain the king- 
dom of heaven. 

Faith. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of these is the gift of God; no man 
attaineth to them by human industry or only by the talk of them. 

Talk. All that I know very well ; for a man can receive nothing, except it be given 
him from heaven; all is of grace, not of works. I could give you a hundred scriptures 
for the confirmation of this. 

Faith. Well, then, said Faithful, what is that one thing that we shall at this time 
found our discourse upon. 

Talk. Wliat yon will; I will talk of things heavenly, or things earthly; things 
moral, or things evangelical; things sacred, or things profane ; things past, or things to 
come; things foreign, or things at home; things more essential, or things circum- 
stantial — provided that all be done to our profit. 

Faith. No w did Faithful begin to wonder ; and stepping to Christian (for he walked all 
this while by himself), he said to him, but softly, What a brave companion have we 
got ! Surely this man will make a very ^xceUent pilgrim. 

Chr. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said, This man with whom you are so 
taken will beguile with this tongue of his twenty of them that know him not. 
Faith. Do you know him, then? 

Chr. Know him ! Yes, better than he knows himself. 
Faith. Pray what is h e ? 

Chr. His name is Talkative; he dwelleth in our town. I wonder that you should 
be a stranger to him; only I consider that our town is large. 
Faith. Whose son is he ? and whereabout doth he dwell ? 

Chr. He is the son of one Say-well, he dwelt in Prating-row, and he is known to all 
that are acquainted with him by the name of Talkative of Prating-row ; and, notwith- 
standing his fine tongue, he is but a sorry fellow. 
Faith. Weil, he seems to be a pretty man. 

Chr. That is, to them that have not a thorough acquaintance with him, for he is 
best abroad ; near home he is ugly enough. Your saying that he is a pretty man 



S4 TnE pilgrim's PROGHESS. 

brings to my mind what I have observed in the work of the painter, whose pictures 
show best at a distance, but very near more unpleising. 

Fatth. But I am ready to think you do but jest, because you smiled. 

Chr. God forbid that I should jest (though i smiled) in this matter, or that I should 
accuse any falsely. I will give you a further discovery of him. This man is for any 
company and for any talk ; as he talketh now with you so will he talk when he is on 
the ale-bench ; and the more drink he hath in his crown, the more of these things he 
hath in his mouth. Religion hath no place in his heart, or house, or conversatien ; all 
he hath lieth in his tongue, and his religion is to make a noise therewith. 

Faith. Say you so? Then am I in this man greatly deceived. 

Chr. Deceived! you may be sure of it. Kemember the proverb, 'They say, and 
do not ; " but the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power. (Matt, xxii'i. 3; I. Cor. 
iv. 20.) He talketh of prayer, of repentance, of faith, and of the new birth ; but he knows 
but only to talk of them. I have been in his family, and have observed him both at 
liome and abroad; and I know what I say of him is rhe truth. His house is as empty 
of religion as the white of an egg is of savor. There is there neither prayer nor 
sign of repentance for sin ; yea, the brute, in his kind, serves God far better than he. 
He is the very stain, reproach, and shame of religion to all that know him. (Rom. ii. 
23, 24.) It can hardly have a good word in all that end of the town where he dwells, 
through him. Thus say the common people that know him, ''A saint abroad, and a 
devil at home.*' His poor family finds it so; he is such a churl, such a railer at, and so 
unreasonable with his servants, that they neither know how to do for or to speak to 
him. Men that have any dealings with him say. It is better to deal with Turks than 
with him, for fairer dealings they shall have at their hands. Tiiis Talkative (if it be 
possible) will go beyond them, defraud, beguile, and overre.ich them. Besides, he 
brings up his sons to follow his steps; and if he finds in any of them a foolish tim- 
orousness (for so he calls the first appearance of a tender conscience), he calls them 
fools and blockheads, and by no means will employ them in much, or speak to their 
commendation before others. For my part, I am of opinion, that he has, by his 
wicked life, caused many to stumble and fall; and will be, if God prevents not, the 
rpin of many more. 

Faith. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe yon, not only because you say you 
know him, but also because, like a Christian, you make your reports of men. For I 
cannot think that you speak these things of ill-will, but because it is even so as you 
say. 

Chr. Had I known him no more than you, I might, perhaps, have thought of him 
as at the first you did ; yea, had I received this report at their hands only that are 
enemies to religion I should have thought it had been a slander — a lot t lat often falls 
from bad men's mouths upon good men's names and professions. But all these things, 
yea, and a great many more as bad, of my own knowledge, I can prove him guilty of. 
Besides, good men are ashamed of him ; they can neithtr call him brother nor friend ; 
the very naming of him among them makes them blush if they know him. 

Faith. Well, I see that saying and doing are two things, and hereafter I shall bet- 
ter observe this distinction, 

Chr. They are two things indeed, and are as diverse as are the soul and the body; 
for, as the body without the soul is but a dead carcass, so saying, if it be alone, is 
but a dead carcass also. The soul of religion is the practical part. ''Pure religion and 
uiidefiled before God and the Father, is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in 
their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." (James i. 22, 27.) 
This, Talkative is not aware of ; he thinks that hearing and saying will made a good 
Christian ; and thus he deceiveth his own souk Hearing is but as the sowing of the 
seed ; talking is not sufiicient to prove that fruit is indeed in tlie heart and life. And 
let us assure ourselves that at the day of doom men shall be judged according to 
their fruit. (Matt. xiii. 23.) It will not be said then. Did you believe ? but. Were you 
doers or talkers only? and accordingly shall they be judged. The end of the world is 
compared to our harvest ; and you know men at harvest regard nothing but fruit. 
Not that anything can be accepted that is not of faith; but 1 speak this to show you 
how insignificant the profession of Talkative will be at that day. 

Faith. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by Avhich he describeth the beast 
that is clean. (Lev. xi; Deut. xiv.) He is such an one that parteth the hoof, and 
cheweth the cud; not that parteth the hoof only, or that chewetli the cud only. The 
hare cheweth the cud, but yet is unclean, because he parteth not the hoof. And this 



THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. 35 

truly resembleth Talkative; he cheweth the cml, he seeketh knowledge; he cheweth 
upon the word, but he devideth not the hoor. He parte;h not with the way of sin- 
ners; but, as the hare, he retaineth the foot of a dog or' bear, and therefore he is 
unclean. 

Chr. You have spoken, for aught I know, the true gospel sense of these texts ; and 
I will add another thing : Paul calleth some men, yea, and those great talkers too, 
soundingbrass and tingling cymbals; that is, as he expounds them in anotlier place, 
things w^ithout life, giving sound. (!. Cor. xiii. l-o ; xiv. 7.) 'Things without life ; that 
is, without the true faith and gr ice of the gospel ; and, consequently, things that shall 
never be placed in the kingdom of lieaven among tiiose ttiat are the children of life; 
thougli their sound, by their talk, be as if it were the tongue or voice of an angel. 

Faith. Well, 1 was not so fond of his company at first, but I am as sick of it now. 
What shall we do to be rid of him? 

Chr. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you shall find that he will soon be 
siciv of your company, too, except God shall touch his heart and turn it. 

Faith. What would you have me to do ? 

Chr. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious discoui*se about the powet^ of re- 
ligion ; and ask him pLiinly (when he has approved of it, for that he will) whether 
this tiing be set up in his heart, house, or conversation. 

Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to Talkative, Come, what cheer ? how 
is it now? 

Talk. Thank you, well ; I thought we should have had a great deal of talk by this 
time. 

Faith. Well, if you wall, we Avill fall to it now : and since you left it with me to 
state the question, let it be this : How doth the saving grace of God discover itself 
when it is in the heart of man ? 

Talk. I perceive, then, that our talk must be about the power of things. Well, it is 
a very good question, and I shall be willing to answer you; and ta^e my answer in 
brief thus : First, where the grace of God is in the heart it causeth there'a great out- 
cry against sin. Secondly, — 

Faith. Nay,' hold; let us consider of one at once. I think you should rather say, 
It shows itself by inclining the soui to abhor its sin. 

Talk. Why.Jwhat difierence is there between crying out against, and abhorring of sin ? 

■Faith. Oh! a great deal. A man may cry out i;gainst sin, of policy; but he can- 
not abhor it but by virtue of a godly antipathy against it. 1 have heard many cry out 
against sin in the pulpit, who yet can abide it well enough in tiie heart, house, and con- 
versation. Joseph's mistress cried out with a loud voice, as if she had been very holy; 
but she v/ould willingly, notwithstanding that, have committed uncleanness with him. 
(Gen. xxxix. 11-15.) iSome cry out against sin, even as the mother cries out against her 
child in her lap, when sue calls it slut and naughty girl, and then falls to hugging and 
kissing it. 

Talk. You lie at the catch, I perceive. 

Faith. No, not I, I am only for sett ng things right. But what is the second thing 
whereby you vv^ould i>rove a discovery of a work of grace in the heart? 

Talk. Great knowledge of gospel mysteries. 

Faith. This sign should have been first: but, first or last, it is also false; for 
knowledge, great knowledge, may be obtained in the mysteries of the gospel, and vet no 
work of grace in the soul. (I. Cor. xiii. 2.) Yea, if a man have ail knowdedge, he may 
yet be nothing, and so, consequently, be no child of God. When Christ said, *' Do ye 
know all these things ? '^ and the discii)les had answered, Yes, he added, ''Blessed are 
ye, if ye do them.'' He doth not lay the blessing in the know.ng of them, but in the 
doing of them. For there is a knowledge that is not attended with doing: "he that 
knoweth his master's wdll, and doeth it not." A man may know like an angel, and 
yet be no Christian : therefore your sign of it is not true. Indeed, to know is a thing 
that pleaseth talkers and boasters; but to do is that which jDleaseth God. Not th:ifc 
the heart can be good without knowledge, for without that the heart is naught. There 
is, therefore, knowledge and knowledge: knowledge that resteth in the bare specula- 
tion of things, and knowledge that is accompanied with the grace of faith and love, 
which puts a man upon doing even the will of God from the heart. Tne first of these 
will serve the talker; but without the other the true Christian is not content. "Give 
me understanding, r.nd 1 shall keep thy law; yea, I shaU observe it with my whole 
he^rt." (i*6a.m c^ix. 34.) 



so THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. 

Talk. You lie at the catch again ; this is not for edification. 

Faith. Well, if you please, propound another sign how this work of grace dis- 
covereth itself where it is. 

Talk. Not I; for I see we shall not agree. 

Faith. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave to do it? 

Talk. You may use your liberty. 

Faith. A work of grace in the soul discovereth itself, either o him that hath it, or 
to stand ers-by. 

To him that hath it, thus: It giv^es him conviction of sin, especially of the defilement 
of his nature and the sin of unbelief, for the sake of which he is sure to be damned if 
he findeth not mercy at God's hand by faith in Jesus Christ. (Markxvi. 16; John xvi. 
8,9; Rom. vii. 24.) This sight and sense of things worketh in him sorrow and shame 
for sin; he findeth, moreover, revealed in him the Savior of the world, and the abso- 
lute necessity of closing with him for life; at the which he findeth hungerings and 
thirstings after him, to which hungerings and thirstings the promise is made. (Psalm 
xxxviii. 18; Jer. xxxi. 19; Matt. v. 6; Acts iv. 12; Gal. i. 15, 16; Kev. xxx. 6.) Now, 
according to the strength or weakness of his faith in his Savior, so is his joy and peace, 
so is his love to holiness, so are his desires to know him mare, and also to serve him 
in this world. But though I say it discovereth itself thus unto him, yet it is but seldom 
that he is able to conclude that this is a work of grace; because his corruptions now 
and his abused reason make his mind to misjudge in this matter. Therefore, in him 
that hath this work there is required a very sound judgment before he can with steadi- 
ness conclude that this is a work of grace. 

To others it is thus discovered : 

First, by an experimental confession of his faith in Christ. Secondly, by a life 
answerable to that confession; to-wit: a life of holiness — heart-holiness, family-holi- 
ness (if he hath a family), and by conversation-holiness in the world, which, in the 
general, teacheth him inwardly to abhor his sin, and himself, for that, in secret; to 
suppress it in his family, and to promote holiness in the world; not by talk only, as an 
hypocrite or talkative person may do, but by a practical subjection in faith and love to 
the poAver of the word. (Psalm 1. 23; Ezek. xx. 43, 44; Matt. v. 8; John xiv. 15; Rom. 
X. 9, 10 ; Phil. iii. 17-20.) And now, sir, as to this brief description or the work of grace, 
and also the discovery of it, if you have aught to object, object; if not, then give me 
leave to propound to you a second question. 

Talk. Nay, my part is not noAV to object, but to hear; let me, therefore, have your 
second question. 

Faith. It is this: Do you experience this first part of the description of it, and 
doth your life and conversation testify the same? Or, standeth your religion in word 
or tongue, and not in deed and truth? Pray, if you incline to answer me in this, say 
no more than you know the God above will say ^^\men" to, and also nothing but what 
your conscience can justify you in; ''for not he that commendeth himself is approved, 
but whom the Lord commendeth.^' Besides, to say I am thus and thus, when my con- 
versation and all my neighbors tell me I lie, is great wickedness. 

Talk. Then Talkative at first began to blush ; but recovering himself, thus he re- 
plied : You come now to experience, to conscience, and to God, and to appeal to him 
for justification of what is spoken. This kind of discourse I did not expect, nor am I 
disposed to 'jive an answer to such questions; because I count not myself bound there- 
to, unless you take upon you to be a catechiser; and though you should so do, yet I 
may refuse to make you my judge. But, I pray, will you tell me why you ask me such 
qut'stions? 

Faith. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because I knew not that you had 
anght else but notion. Besides, to tell you all the truth, I have heard of you, that you 
are a man whose religion lies in talk, and that your conversation gives this your mouth- 
profession the lie. They say you are a spot among Christians, and that religion fareth 
the worse for your uiigodly conversation ; that some have already stumbled at your 
wicked ways, and that more are in danger of being destroyed thereby; your religion 
and an ale-house and covetousness and uncleanness and swearing and lying and vain 
company-keeping, etc., will stand together. The proverb is true of you which is said 
of a whore, to-wit: ^^iShe is a shame to all women ; '' so are you a shame to all professors. 
Talk. Since you are so ready to take up reports and to judge so rashly as you do, I 
cannot but conclude you are some peevish or melancholy man not fit to be discoursed 
with, and so adieu. 



THE pilgrim's progress. 37 

Chr. Then came up Christian, and said to his brother, I told you how it would 
happen — your words and his lusts could not agree. He had rather leave your company 
than reform his life. But he is gone, as I said; let him go; the loss is no man's but 
his own. He has saved us the trouble of going from him; for he continuing (as I sup- 
pose he will do) as he is, he would have been but a blot in our company. Besides, the 
apostle says, "From such withdraw thyself." 

Faith. But I am glad Ave had this little discourse with him; it may happen that he 
Avill think of it again. However, I have dealt plainly with him, and so am clear of his 
blood if he perisheth. 

Chr. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you did. There is but little of this 
faithful dealing with men now-a-days, and that makes religion to stink so in the nostrils 
of many as it doth, for they are these talkative fools whose religion is only in word, 
and are debauched and vain in their conversation, that (being so much admitted into 
the fellowship of the godly) do puzzle the world, blemish Christianity, and grieve the 
sincere. I wish that all men would deal with such as you have done; then should they 
either be made more conformable to religion, or the company of saints would be too 
hot for them. 

Then did Faithiul say : 

How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes! 
How bravely doth he speak ! How he presumes 
« To drive down all before him ! But so soon 

As Faitnliil talks ot heart-work, like the moon 
That's past the lull, into the wane he goes; 
And so Will all but he that heart-work knows. 

Thus they went on, talking of what they had seen by the way, and so raatle that way 
easy which would otherwise no doubt have been tedious to them; for now they went 
through a wilderness. 



THE SIXTH STAGE. 

Now, when they were got almost quite out of this wilderness, Faithful chanced to 
cast his eye back and espied one coming after them, and he knew him. Oh! said 
Faithful to his brother, Who comes yonder? 

Then Christian looked and said, It is my good friend, Evangelist. 

Ay, and my good friend, too, said Faithful; for it was he that set me in the way to 
the gate. 

Now was Evangelist come up unto them, and thus saluted them: 

Evan. Peace be with you, dearly beloved ; and peace be to your helpers. 

Chr. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist; the sight of thy countenance brings 
to my remembrance thy ancient kindness and unwearied labors for my eternal good. 

Faith. And a thousand times welcome, said good Faithiul. Thy company, oh, sweet 
Evangelist, how desirable is it to us poor pilgrims! 

Evan. Then said Evangelist, How hath it fared with you, my friends, since the time 
of our last parting? Whai have you met with, and how'have you behaved yourselves? 

Then Chrisiian and Faithful told him of all ti.in:s that had happened to them in the 
way, and how aud with what difficulty they had arrived to tliat place. 

Evan. Right glad am I, said Evangelist, not that you ha e met with trials, but that 
you have been victors, and for that you have, notwithstanding many weaknesses, con- 
tinued in the way to this very day. 

I say right glad am I of this thing, and that for mine own sake and yours. I have 
sowed and yuu have reaped; and the day is coming when ''both he that sowed and they 
that reaped shall rejoice together' — that is, if you hold out; "for in due time ye shall 
reap, if ye faint n.)t." (John iv. 36; Gal. vi. 9.) The crown is before you, audit is an 
incorrupiibie one; "so run, that you may obtain it." Some there be that set out for 
this crown and after they have giue far irom it another comes in and ttikes it from 
them. "Hold lasr, therefo e, that you have; lee no man take your crown." (I Cor. ix. 
24-27; Rev. iii. 11.) You are not yet out of the gun-shot of the devil; "you have not 
resisted unto nlood, striving against sin ;" let the kingdom be always berore you, and 
believe steadfastly concerning the thi.igs thai are in vi.itjle; letnothi g that is on' this 
side the other world get within you; i^nd above all, look well to your pwn hearts and 



38 THE pilgrim's PK0GBE8S. 

to the lusts thereof, for tbey are "deceitful above all things and desperately wicked." 
Set your faces like a flint; you have all power in heaven and earth on your side. 

Chr. Then Christian thanked him for his exhortation, but told him, withal, that 
they would have him speak further to them for their help the rest of the way., and the 
rather, for that they well knew that he Avas a prophet and could tell them things that 
might happen unto them, and also how they might resist and overcome them. To 
which request Faithful also consented. So Evangelist began as followeth: 

Evan. My sons, you have heard in the words of the truth of the gospel "that you 
must, through many tribulation?^, enter into the kingdom of heaven." Anrl again, 
that "in every city bontis and afflictions abide you," and therefore you cannot jxpect 
that you should go lonj^ on your pilgrimage without them in some sort or other. You 
have found somethin^ ot the trutli of these testimonies upon you already, and more 
will immediately follow; for now, as you see, you are almost out of this^ wilderness, 
and therefore you will soon come into a town that you will by and l>y see before you. 
And in that town you will be hardly beset with enemies who will strain hard but they 
will kill you ; and be sure that one or both of you must seal the testimony, which you 
hold, with blood. But " be faithful unto death, and the king will give you a crown of 
life." He that shall die there, although his death will be unnatural, and his pain, 
perhaps, great, he will yet have the better of his fellow, not only because he will be 
arrived at the Celestial City soonest, but because he will esca])e many miseries that 
the other will meet with in the rest of his journey. But when yqu are come to the 
town and shall find fulfilled what I have here related, then remem^eryoui friend, and 
quit yourselves like men ; and commit the keeping of your souls to your God in well- 
doing, as unto a faithful Creator. 

Then I saw in my dream that when they were got out of the wilderness they pres- 
ently saw a town before then, and the name of that town is Vanity; and at the town 
there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair. It is kept all the year long. It beareth the 
name Vanity Fair because the town where it is kept is lighter than vmity, and also 
kecause all that is there sold or th'it cometh thither is vanity. As is the saying of the 
wise, "All that cometh is vanity." (Eccl. i. 2, 14; ii. 11, 17; xi. 8; Isa. xl iV.) 

This fair is no new-erected business, but a thing of ancient standing. I will show 
you the original of it. 

Almost five thousand years ago there were pilgrims walking to the Celestial City, 
as these two honest persons are; and Beelzebub, Apollyon and Legion were their 
companions, perceiving by the path that the pilgrims made their way to the city lay 
through this town of vanity, they contrived here to set up a fair — a fair wherein should 
be sold all sorts of vanity, and that it should last all the year long. Therefore, at this 
fair are all such merchandise sold, as houses, lands, trades, places, honors, prefer- 
ments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts, pleasures ; and delights of all sorts, as whores, 
bawds, wives, husbands, children, masters, servants, lives, blood, bodies, souls; silver, 
gold, pearls, precious stones and what not. 

And, moreover, at this fair there is at all times to be seen jugglings, cheats, games, 
plays, fools, apes, knaves and rogues, and that of every kind. 

Here are to be seen, too, and that for nothing, thefts, murders, adulteries, false- 
swearers, and that of a blood-red color. 

And, asiin other fairs of less moment, there are several rows and streets under their 
proper names where such wares are vended, so here, likewise, you have the proper 
places, rows, streets (namely, countries and kingdoms), where the wares of this fair 
are soonest to be found. Here is the Britain-row, the French-row, the Italian-row, 
the Spanish-row, the German-row, where several sorts of vanities are to be sold. But 
as in other fairs, some one commodity is the chief of all the fair, so the ware of Rome 
and her merchandise is greatly promoted in this fair; only our English nation, with 
some others, have taken a dislike thereat. 

Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies just throuo^h this town where this 
lusty fair is kept; and he that will go to the city, and yet not go through this town, must 
needs go out to the world. Tlie Prince of princes himself, when here, went through 
this town to his own country — and that upon a fair-day, too; yea, and as I think, it 
was Beelzebub, the chief lord of this fair, that invited him to buy of his vanities; yea, 
would have made him lord of the fair, w^ould he but have done him reverence as he 
went through the town; yea — because he was such a person of honor — Beelzebub had 
him from street to street, and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a little time, 
that he might, if possible, allure that blessed One to cheapen and buy some of his vanities, 



i 



THE PILGKIM'S progress. 



iut he had no mmd to th.? morcliarniise, and therefore left the town without laying out 
so much as one fartliiug upon tlie.se vaiiiiies (Matt. iv. 8, 9; Luke iv. 5-7). This fair, 
tlK-rofore, is an atu'lent thins:, of lon.i^j standing and a very great fair. 

Now, these }>iigrin).s, as I said, must needs go through tliis fair. AVell, so they did. 
But, behold, even as they enteied into the fair, all the jjeople in the fair were moved, 
and the town itself, as it were, in a hubbub about them — andthat for several reasons ; for. 

First, The pilgrims were clothed with such kind of raiment as was diverse from the 
raiment of any that traded in that fair. Tiie ])eo])]e, tlieiefore, of the fair ninde a great 
gazing upon them ; some said they were fools (I. Cor. iv. 9, 19), some they were bedlams 
and some they were outland.sh men. 

Secondly, And as they womlered at theirapparcl so they did likewise at their speech 
— for lew could understand what they said. They naturally s])oke the language of 
(\maan, but they that kep-t the fair were men of this world; so that, from one end of 
;he fair to the other, they seemed barbarians each to the other. 

Thirdly, Bnt that which did not a little amuse the merchandisers was, that these pil- 
'H-ims set very light by all iheir wares. They cared not so much as to look upon them; 

d, if they called upon them to buy, they would pu: their fi gers in their ears and cry, 
•Turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity " (Psaim cxix. 37), and look upward^ 
;.;nifying th:t their trade and traffic was in heaven. 

One chanced, mockingly — beholding the carriage of tlie men — to say unto them, 
"hat will ye buy? But they, lookiu-r gravelv upon him, said, *' He Ouy the trtUh^^ (Prov. 
xxiii. 23). At that there was an occasion taken to despise the men the more; some 
mockiu'r, some taunting, some speaking reproachfully and some calling upon others to 
smite them. At last things came to a liul,bub and grear stir in the fair — insomuch that 
all order was confounded. Now was word presently brought to the Great One of the 
fair, who quickly came down and deputed some of his more trusty friends to take those 
men into examination about whom tne fair was a'most overturned. So the men were 
brought to examination; and they that sat upon them asked tiiem whence they canie, 
whither they went and what they did there in surh an unusual garb. Ihe men told 
that they were pilgrims and stranger^, in the world, and th;.t they were going to their 
own coiiniry — which was the heavenly Jerusalem (Ileb. xi. 13-16); and that they had 
given no occasion to the men of the town — nor yet to the merchandisers — thus to abuse 
them and to let them in t.ieir journey ; except it Avas for that, Avhen one asked them 
what they would buy, they said tlicy would ^^buy the truth." But they that were ap- 
pointed to examine tliem did not believe them to be any otlier than bedlams and mad, 
or else such as came to put all things into a confusion in the lair. Therefore they took 
them and beat them, and besmeared them with dirt, and -then put them into the cage ; 
that they might be made a spectacle to a.l the men of the fair. There, therefore, they 
lay for some time, and were made the o jects of ; iiy man's sport, or malice, or revenge 
— ^the Great One of the fair laughing st.ll at all that befell them. But, the men being 
patient, and not rendering railing for railuig, but contrariwise blessing, and giving good 
words for bad and kindness for injuries done, some ipen in the lair — that were more 
observing and less prejudiced than the rest — began to check and blame the baser sort 
for their continual abuses done by them to the men; they, therefore, in angry manner, 
let fly at them again — counting them as bad as the men in the cage, and telling them 
that they seemed confederates, and should be made partakers of their misfortunes. The 
others replied that, for anght they could see, the u»enwere quiet and sober and intended 
nobody any hiirni ; and that there were many that traded in their fair that were more 
worthy to be put into the cage — yea, and pillory too — than were the men that they had 
abused. Thus, after divers words had passed on both sides (the men behaving them- 
selves all the while very wisely and soberly before them), they fell to some blows among 
themselves and did harm to one another. Then were tiiese two poor men brought be- 
fore their examiners again, and were charged as being guilty of the late hubbub that 
had been in the fair. So they beat them pitifully, and hanged irons upon them, and led 
them in chains up and down the fair — for an example and terror to others, lest any 
should speak in their behalf or join themselves unto them. But Christian and Faithful 
behaved themselves yet more wisely, and received the ignominy and shame that was 
cast upon them with so much meekness and patience that it won to their side (though 
but few in comparison of the rest) several of the men in tiie fair. This put the other 
]iarty yet into a greater rage, insomuch that they concluded the death of these two men. 
AVTierefore they threatened that neither cage nor irons should serve their turn, but that 
ihey should die lor the abuse they had done and for deluding the men of the fair. 



40 a^H PILGRIM'S PROGHESS. 

Then were they remanded to the cac:e again, until further orders sliould be taken 

with them. So they put them in and made their feet fast in the stocks. 

]Iere, also, they called again to mind what they had heard from their faithful friend 
Evangelist, and were the more confirmed in their way and sufierings by what he told 
tliem would happen to them. They also now comforted each other that, Avhose ever lot 
it was to suffer, even he should have the best on't. Theretfore each man secretly wished 
that lie might have that preferment ; but, committing themselves to the all-wise dispo- 
sal of him that ruleth all things, with much content they abode iu the condition in 
which they were, until they should be otherwise disposed of. 

Then — a convenient time being appointed — they brought them forth to their trial, in 
order to their condemnation. When the time was come they were l)rought before their 
enemies and arraigned. The judge's name was Lord Hate-good. Their indictment was 
one and the same in substance, though somewhat varying in form; the contents where- 
of were these : 

^* That they were enemies to, and disturbers of, the trade; that they had made com- 
motions and divisions in the town, and had won a party to their own most dangerous 
opinions, in contempt of the law of our prince.^' 

Then Faithful began to answer that he had only set himself against that which had 
set itself against him that is higher than the highest. And, said he, as for diturbance, 
I make none — being myself a man of peace. The parties that were Avon to us were won 
by beholding our truth and innocence, and they are only turned from the w*orse to the 
better; and as to the king you talk of — since he is Beelzebub, the enemy of our Lord, I 
defy him and all his angels. 

Then proclamation was made that they that had aught to say for their lord the king, 
aeainst the prisoner at the bar, should forthwith appear and give in their evidence. So 
thei'e came in three witnesses; to wit. Envy, Superstition and Pickthank. They were 
then asked if they knew the prisoner at the bar, and what they had to say for their lord 
the king against him. 

Then stood forth Envy, and said to this effect: My lord, I have known this man a 
long time, and will attest upon my oath, before this honorable bench that he is 

Judge. Hold ! Give him his oath. 

So they sware him. Then he said. My lord, this man, notwithstanding his plausible 
name, is one of the vilest men in our country ; he neither regardeth prince nor people, 
law nor custom, but doth all that he can to possess all men wiih certain of his disloyal 
notions — which he in the general calls "]>rinciples of faitk and holiness.'* And, in 
partictilar, I heard him once myself affirm that Christianity and the customs of our town 
of Vanity were diametrically opposite, an»d cotild not be reconciled. By which saying, 
my lord, he doth at once not only condemn all onr laudable doings but us in the doing 
of them. 

Then did the Judge say to him, Hast thou any more to say? 

Envy. My lord, I could say much more, only I would not be tedious to the court. 
Yet, if need be — when the other gentlemen have given in their evidence — rather than 
any thing shall be wanting that will despatch him, I will enlarge my testimony againsc 
him. So he was bid stand by. 

Then they called Superstition, and bid him look upon the prisoner; they also asked 
what he could say lor their lord the king against him. Then they sware him ; so he 
began : 

Super. My lord, I have no great acquaintance with this man, nor do I desire to have 

further knowledge of him. However, this I know, that he is a very pestilent fellow 

from some discourse that the other day I had Avith him in this town ; for then, talking 
with him, I heard him say that our religion was naught, and such by which a man could 
by no means please God. Which saying of his, my lord, yotir lordship very well knows 
what necessarily thence will follow ; to wit, that we still do worship in vain, are yet in 
our sins and finally shall be damned. And this is that which I have to say. 

Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say Avhat he knew, in behalf of their lord the 
kin?, against the prisoner at the bar 

Pick. My lord, and you gentlemen all, this fellow T have known of a long time and 
have heard him speak things that ought not to be spoken. Eor he hath railed on our 
noble prince Beelzebub and naih spoken contemptibly of his honorable fri?nds whose 
names are the Lord Old Man, the Lord Carnal JJ>e;igiit, the Lord Luxurious, the Lord 
Desire of Vain Glory, my old Lord Lechery, Sir Having Greedy, w.th all tiie rest of our 
nobility; and he hath said, moreover, that if all men were of his mind, if possible 



THE pilgrim's PKOGRESS. 41 

there is not one of thes» noble men should have any longer a bein.j^ in this town. Be- 
side, he hatli not been afraid to rail on you, my lor>l, who are now a))pointed to be his 
judire, calling yon an ungocfty villain; with many other such-like villifying terms, with 
which he hath'bespattered most of the gentry of our Town. 

When this Pickthank had toid his tale die judge directed his speech to the prisoner 
at the bar, saying, Tiiou runngate, heretic and traitor, hast thou iieard what these hon- 
est gentlemen have v.itnessed against thee? 

Faith. May I speak a few words in my own defense? 

Judge. Sirrah ! sirrah! tiiou deservest to live no longer, but to be slain immediately 
upon the place ! Yet — that all men may see our gentleness toward thee — let us hear 
what thoit, vile runagate, hasr to say. 

Faith. 1. 1 say, then, in answer to Avhat Mr. Envy hath spoken, I never said aught 
but this: that what rule, or laws, or custom, or people were flat against the word of God 
are diametrically opposite to Christianity. If I have said amiss in this, convince me of 
my error and I am ready, here before you, to make my recantation. 

2. As to the second — to Avit, Mr. Superstition — and his charge against me, I said only 
this : that in the worsliip of God there is required a divine faith; but there can be no 
divine laith without a divine revelation of the will of God. Therefore, wh.atever is 
thrust into the worship of God that is not agreeable to divine revelation, cannot be done 
but by a human faith — which faith will not be profitable to eternal life. 

3. As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say (avoiding terms, as that I am said to 
rail aHd the like): that the prince of this town, with all the rabblemcnt his attendants, 
by this gentleman named, are more lit for being in hell than in this town and country ; 
and so the Lord have mercy upon me. 

Then the judge called to the jury (who all this while stood by to hear and observe), 
Gentlemen of the jury, yoit see this man about whom so great an uproar hath been 
made in this town; you have also heard what these worthy gentlemen have witnessed 
against him; also you have neara nis reply ana coniession. It now lieth in your breast 
to hang him or save his life ; b t yet I think meet to instruct you in our law. 

There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh the Great, servant to our prince, that, 
lest those of a contrary religion should multiply and grow too strong for him, their 
males should be thrown into the river. (Exod. i.) There was also an act made in the 
days of Nebuchadnezzar the Great, another of his serv:mts, that whoever would not fall 
down and worship his golden image should be thrown into a fiery furnace. (Dan. iii.) 
There was also an act made in the days of Darius tiiat whoso, for some time, called upon 
any god but him should be cast into tlie lions' den. (Dan. vi.) Now, the substance of 
these laws this rebel hath broken, not only in thought(which is not to be borne), but in 
word and deed ; which must, therefore, needs be intolerable. 

For that of Pharaoh, his law was made upon a supposition — to prevent mischief, no 
crime being yet apparent; but here is a crime apparent. For the second and third, you 
see he dispateth against our religion; and for the treason that he hath already confessed 
he deserveth to die the death. 

Then went the jury out; whose names were Mr. Blindman, Mr. No-good, Mr. Malice, 
Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. 
Cruelty, Mr. Hate-1 glit and Mr. Implacable — who every one gave in his private verdict 
acT'nnst him among themselves and afterward unanimously concluded to bring him in 
guilty before the judge. And first — among themselves — Mr. Blindman, the foreman, 
saivl, I see clearly that this man is a ucretic. Then said Mr. No-good, Away with such 
a icilow from the earth. Ay, sa d Mr. Malice, for I hate the very looks of him. Then 
said Mr. Love-lust, I could never endure him. Nor I, said Mr. Live-loose, for he would 
always be condemning my way. Hang him! hang him! said Mr. Heady. A sorry scrub, 
said Mr. High-mind. My heart riseth against him, said Mr. Enmity, He is a rogue, 
suid Mr. Liar. Hanging is too good for him, said Mr. Cruelty. Let us despatch nim 
out of the way, said Mr. Hate-light. Then said Mr. Implacable, Might I have all the 
world given me I could not be reconciled to him ; thereiore let us forthwith bring him 
in guilty of death. And so they did; therefore he was presently condemned to be ha(J 
fi'om the place where he was, to the place from w^hence he came, and there to be put ti 
the most cruel death that could be invented. 

They therefore brought him out to do with him according to their law ; and first they 
scourged him, then they buffeted him, then they lanced his flesh with knives ; after 
that they stoned him with stones, then pr.cked him with their swords; and last of all 
they burned him to ashes at the slake. Thus came Faitaful to his end. 



42 THE pilgeim's peogress. 

Now I saw there stood behind the multitude a chariot and a couple of horses waiting 
for Faithful, who, so soon as his adversaries had despatched him, was taken up into it, 
and straightway was carried up through the clouds, with sound of trumpet, the nearest 
way to the Celestial Gate. But as for Christian, he had some respite, and was remanded 
back to prison ; so he there remained for a space. But he that overrules all things, 
having the power of their rage in his own hand, so wrought it about that Christian for 
that time escaped them and went his way. And as he went he sang, saying — 

Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully profess^^d, 
Unto thy Loid, Miih who«i thou shalt be b essod ; 
"When faithless ones, with all their vain delights, 
Are crying out umier their hellish plights ; 
SinsT, Fii.itp.ful, sing, and let thy nnme survive, 
I'or though they killed thee, tliou art yet alive. 



THE SEYEXTH STAGE. 

Now T saw in my dream that Christian went not forth alone, for there was one who^e 
name was Hopeful (being so made by the beholding of Christian and Faithful in their words 
and behavior in their sutlerings at the fair) who joined himself unto him, and, enter- 
ing into a brotherly covenant, told him that he would be his companion. Thus one 
died to bear testimony to the truth, and another rises out of his ashes to be a compan- 
ion with Christian in his pilgrimage. This Hopeful also told Christian that there 
were many more of the men in the fair that would take their time and follow afte^*. 

So I saw that quickly after they were got out of the fair they overtook one that was 
going before them whose name was By-ends; so they said to him. What countryman, 
sir ? and how far go you this way? He told them that he came from the town of Fair- 
speech, and he was going to the*^ Celestial City, but told them not his name. 

From Fair-speech! said Christian; is there any good that lives there? (Prov. 
xxvi. 25.) 

Yes, said By-ends, I hope so. 

Pray, sir, what may I call you? said Christian. 

By. I am a stranger to you, and you to me ; if you be going this way I shall be glad 
of vour company ; if not, I must be content. 

This town of Fair-speech, said Christian, I have heard of, and, as I remember, thej 
feitv it is a wealthy place. 

By. Yes, I will assure you that it is, and I have very many rich kindred there. 

Chr. Pray, who are yo*^ur kindred there, if a man may be so bold ? 

By. Almost the whole town, and, in particular, my Lord Turn-about, my Lord Time- 
server, my Lord Fair-speech, from whose ancestors the town first took its name ; also 
yir. SmooUi-man, Mr. Facing-both-ways, Mr. Anything; and the parson of our parish, 
Mr. Two-tongues, was my mother's own brother by father's side; and to tell you the 
truth, I am become a gentlem.an of good quality; yet my great-grandfather was but a 
waterman, looking one way and rowing another, and I got most of my estate by the 
same occupation. 

Chr. Are you a married man? 

By. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, the daughter of a virtuous woman ; 
she was my Lord Feigning's daught(^r, therefore she came of a very honorable family, 
and is arrived at such a pitch of breeding that she knows how to carry it to all, even to 
prince and peasant. It is true we somewhat ditt'er in religion from those of the strict- 
est sort;, yet but in two small points: First, we never strive against wind and tide. 
Secondiv, we are ahvays most zealous when Religion goes in his silver slippers; we 
Jove much to walk with him in the street if the sun shines and the people applaud 

Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow Hopeful, saying. It runs in my r 
mind that this is one By-ends, of Fair-speecn, and if it be he we have as very a knave 
ii our company as dwelleth in all these parts. Then said Hopeful, Ask him; methinks 
he should not be ashamed of his name. So Christian came up with him again, and 
said, Sir, you talk as if vou knew something more than all the world doth ; and, if i take 
not my mark amiss, I deem I have half a guess oi you ; is not your name i/r. By-ends, 
of Fair-speech ? 



THE pilgrim's pkogress. 43 

By. Tin's is not my name, but indeed it is a nickname tliat is g'von me by some that 
cannot abide me, and I must be content to bear it as a reproach, as oiher good men have 
borne theirs before me. 

Chr. But did you never give an occasion to men to call you by this name? 

By. Never, never! The worst that ever I did to trive them an occasion to give me 
this name was that I had always the luck to jump in my judgment with the present way 
of the times, whatever it was, and my chance was to get thereby; but if things were 
thus cast upon me let me count them a blessing; but let not the malicious load me, 
therefore, with reproach. 

Chr. I thought, indeed, that you were the man that I heard of, and, to tell you what T 
think I fear this name belongs to you more properly than you are willing we should 
think it doth. 

By. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it ; you shall find me a fair com- 
paiiv-keeper if you will still admit me your associate. 

Cur. If jou will go with us you must go against wind and tide, the which, I perceivp, 
is against your opinion. You must also own Beligion in his rags as well as when in his 
silver slippers, and stand by hiai, too, when bound in irons as well as when he walketh. 
tlie streets with applause. 

By. You must not impose nor lord it over my faith ; leave me to my liberty and let 
me go with you. 

Chr. Not a step farther unless you will do, in what I propound, as we. 

Then said By-ends, I shall never desert my old principles, since they are harmless 
and profitable. If I may not go with you I must do as 1 did before you overtook me, 
even go by myself until some overtake me that will be glad of my company. 

Now I saw in my dream that Christian and Hopeful forsook him and kept their dis- 
tance before him ; but one of them, looking back, saw three men following Mr. By-ends; 
and behold, as they came up with him he made them a very low congee, and they also 
gave him a compliment. The men\s names were Mr. Hold-the-world, Mr. Money-love, 
and Mr. Save-all, men that Mr. By-ends had formerly been acquainted with, for in their 
m.nority they were schoolfellows, and were taught by one Mr. Gripe-man, a schoolmas- 
ter in Love-gain, which is a market-town in the county of Coveting, in the north. This 
schoolmaster taught them the art of getting, either by violence, cozenage, flatteiy, 
lying, or by putting on a guise of religion; and these four gentlemen had attained 
much of the art of their master, so that they could each of them have kept such a 
school themseves. 

Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each other, Mr. Money-love said to Mr. 
By-ends, Who are they upon the road before us ? for Christian and Hopeful were yet 
within view. 

By. They are a couple of far-countrymen, that, after their mode, are going on pil- 
grimage. 

Money. Alas ! why did they not stay, that we might have had their good company Z 
for they, and we, and you, sir, I hope, are all going on pilgrimage ? 

By. ' We are so, indeed ; but the men before us are so rigid, and love so much thefr 
own notions, and do also so lightly esteem the opinions of others, that, let a man be 
never so godly, yet if he jumps not with them in all things they thrust him quite out 
of their company. 

Save. That^s bad; but we read of some that are righteous over-much, and suck 
men's rigidness prevails with them to judge and condemn all but themselves. But L 
pray, what, and how many, were the things wherein you differed ? 

By. Why, they, after their headstrong manner, conclude that it is their duty to rush, 
on their journey all weathers, and I am for waiting for w ind and tide. They are for 
hazarding all for God at a clap, and I am for taking all advantages to secure my life and 
estate. They are for holding their notions, though all other men be against them ; buf 
1 am for religion in what, and so far as, the times and my safety will bear it. Tliey are 
for Religion when in rags and contempt; but I am for him when he walks in his silver 
slippers, in the sunshine, and with applause. 

HOLD-THK-WORLD. Ay, and hold you there still, good Mr. By-ends; for, for my- 
part, I can count him but a fool, that, having the liberty to keep what he has, shall be 
so unwise as to lose it. Let us be w.se as serpents, it is best to make hay whi> the sun. 
shines; you see how the bee lieth still in winter, and bestirs her onlyVhe i she can 
have profit with pleasure. God sends sometimes rain, and sometimes sunshine; if 
they be such fcols to go through the first, yet let us be content to take fair weather 



44 THE pilgrim's PROGRESS, 

along with us. For my part, I like that religion best that will stand with the security of 
God's good blessings unto us; for who can imagine, that is ruled by his reason, since God 
has bestowed upon us the good things of this life, but that he would have us keep 
them for his sake ? Abraham and Solomon grew rich in religion, and Job says that a 
good man *' shall lay up gold as dust.'' But he must not be such as the men before us, 
if they be as you iuive described them. 

Save. I think that we are all agreed in this matter, and therefore there needs no 
more words about it. 

Money. No, there needs no more words about this matter indeed; for he that be- 
lieves neither scripture nor reason (and you see we have both on our side), neither 
knows his own liberty nor seeks his own safety. 

By. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all on pilgrimage ; and, for our better 
diversion from things that are bad, give me leave to propound unto you this ques- 
tion : 

Suppose a man, a minister, or a tradesman, etc., should have an advantage lie before 
him to get the good blessings of this liie, yet so as that he can by no means come by 
them, except, in appearance at least, he becomes extraordinary zealous in some points 
of religion that he meddled not with before, may he not use tais means to attain his 
end, and yet be a right honest man ? 

Money. I see the bottom of your question, and, with these gentlemen's good leave, 
I will endeavor to shape you an answer. And, first, to speak to your question, as it 
concerneih a minister himself. Suppose a minister, a worthy man, possessed but of a 
very small benefice, and has in his eye a greater, more fat and plump by far; he has 
also now an opportunity ot getting it, yet so as by being more studious, by preaching 
more frequently and zealousiy, and because tae temper of the people requires it, by al- 
tering of some of his principles ; for my part, I see no reason why a man may not do 
this (provided he has a call), ay, and more, a great deal, besides, and yet be an honest 
man. For why? 

1. His desire of a greater benefice is lawful ; this cannot be contradicted, since it is 
set before him by Proviaence; so then he may get itii ne can, maKing no question for 
conscience's sake. 

2. Besides, his desire after that benefice makes him more studious, a more zealous 
preaCiier, etc., and so makes him a better man, yoa, niai^cs mm better improve nis 
parts, whiCh is accordii^g to the mind of God. 

3. Now, as for his complying with the temper of his people, by deserting, to serve 
them, some of his principles, this argueth, tirs , taac he is oi a s.if-den\ing temper; sec- 
ondly, of a sweet and winning deportment; ana, txiirv^jy, so mure lit for the ministerial 
lunction. 

4- I conclude then that a minister that changes a Small for a Great should not, for so 
doing, be judge.i as covetous ; but rather, Sxiice lie is liiiproved in his parts and industry 
thereoy, be counted as one thai pursues his call, and tne opportunity puc into his hand 
to do good. 

And now to to the second part of the question, which concerns the tradesman you^ 
mentioned; suppose such an one to have but a poor em^ loy in the world, but, by 
becoming rel.gious, he may mend his market, periiaps get a rich wife, or more and 
far better customers to his shop. For my part, I see no reason but this may be lawfully 
done. For why ? 

1. To become religious is a virtue, by what means soever a man becomes so. 

2, Nor is it uiilawiul to get a ricn wife, or more custom to my shop. 

S. Besides, tiie man that gets these by becoming relig.ous, gets that which is good of them 
tliat are good by becoming gooa hiuiseit; so tnen, here is a good wife, and good cus- 
loiners, and good gain, and all these by becoming religious, which is good; therefore, 
to become religious to get all these is a good and profitable design. 

This answer, tuns made by Mr. Money-love to Mr. By-ends' question was highly ap- 
plauded by them all; wherefore they concluded, upon tiie whole, that it was most whole- 
some and advantageous. And because, as they thought, no man was able to contra- 
dict it, and because Christian and Hopeful were yet within call, they jointly agreed to 
assault them wita the question as soon as they overtook tuem, and the rather because 
they had opposed Mr. By-ends beiore. So they called after them; and they 
stopped and stood still tiU they came up to them, but they concluded as 
they went that not Mr. By-ends, but old Mr. Hold-the-world should propound the 
question to them, because, as they supposed, their answer to him would be without the 



l"Hfi pilgrim's PllOGKESS. 45 

remainder of that beat that was kindled betwixt Mr. By-ends and them at their parting 
a little before. 

So they came up to each other, and, after a short salutation, Mr. Ilold-tlie-world pro- 
pounded the question to Christian and his fellow, and bid them to answer it if they 
could. 

Then said Christian, even a babe in religion may answer ten thousand such questions. 
For if it be unhiwful to follow Christ for loaves, as it is, John vi. 26^ how much more 
abominable is it to make of him and religion a stalking-horse to get and enjoy the 
world ! Nor do we find any other than heathens, hypocrites, devils and witches that are 
of this opinion. 

1. Heathens : for when Hamor and Shechem had a mind to the daughter and cattle 
of Jacob, and saw that there was no way for them to come attiiem but by b^irn^ circum- 
cised, they say to their companions, '^If every male of us be circumcised, as they are 
circumcised, shall not their cattle, and their substance, and every beast of theirs b;^ 
ours?'^ Their daughters and their cattle were that which they sought to obtain, ami 
their religion the stalking-horse they made use of to come at them. Kead the wiioie 
story. Genesis xxxiv. 20-24. 

2. The hypocritical pharisees were also of this religion ; long prayers were their pre- 
tense, but to get widows' houses was their intent; and greater damnation was from Uod 
their judgment. (Luke xx. 46, 47.) 

3. Judas, the devil, was also of this religion; he w^as religious for the bag, that he 
might be possessed of wi^at was put therein ; but he was lost, cast away, and" the very 
son of perdition. 

4. Simon, the wizard, was of this religion, too; for he would have had the H< ly 
Ghost, that he might have got money thorewiih ; and his sentence from Peter's mouth 
was according. (Acts viii. 18-23.) 

5. Neither will it out of my mind but tl^at that man that takes up religion for the 
world, will throw away religion for the world; for so surely as Judas designed the world 
in becoming religious, so surely did he also sell religion and his Master for the same. 
To answer the queston therefore affirmatively, as I perceive you have ( one, and to ac- 
cept of, authentic, such answer, is both heathenish, hypocritical and devilish ; and your 
reward will be according to your works. 

Then they stood staring one upon another, but had not wherewith to answer Christian. 
Hopeful also approved of the boundness of Christian's answer ; so the re was a great si- 
lence among tnem. Mr. By-ends and his company a!so staggered and kept behind, that 
Christian and Hopeful might outgo them. Then said Christian to his ieilow, if these 
men cannot stand before the senience of men what will thty do with the sentence of 
God? And if they are mute when dealt with by vessels of clay, what will they do when 
tliey shall be reuuked by the flames of a devouring fire. 

Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, and went till they came to a deli- 
cate plain, called Ease, where they went with much content ; but that plain was but 
narrow, so they were quickly got over it. Now at the farther side of that plain was a 
little hill called Lucre, and in that hill a s.lver mine, which some of them that had 
formerly gone that way, because of the rarity of it, had turned aside to see; but going 
too near the brim of the pit, the ground being deceitful under them, broke, and they 
were slain ; some also had been maimed there, and could not to their dying day be 
their own men again. 

Then I saw m my dream, that a little off the road, over against the silver mine, stood 
Demas (gentleman-like) to call passengers to come and see; who said to Christian 3iiid 
his ieilow, Ho ! turn aside hither, and I will show you a thing. 

Chr. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of the way to see it ? 

Demas. Here is a silver mine and some digging in it for treasure; if you will come 
with a little pains you may richly provide for yourselves. 

Hope. Then, said Hopeful, let us go see. 

Chr. Not I, said Christian; I have heard of this place before now, and how manv 
there have been slain; and, besides, that treasure is a snare to those that seek it, for it 
hindereth them in their pilgrimage. 

Then Christian called to Demas, saying. Is not the place dangerous? hath it not hin- 
dered many in their pilgrimage? 

Demas. ' Not very dangerous except to those that are careless. But withal he bliished 
as he spake. 

Then said Christian to Hopeful, Let us not stir a step, but still keep on our way. 



46 THE pilgrim's progress. 

Hope. I will warrant you wlien By-ends comes np, if he hath the samo Invitation as 
we, he will turn in thither to see. 

Chr. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him that way, and a hundred to one 
but he dies there. 

Then Demas called again, saying, But will you not come over and see? 

Then Christian roundly answered, saying, Demas thou art an enemy to the right 
wnys of the Lord of this way, and hast alreadj^ been condemned for thine own turning 
aside, by one of his Majesty's judges (II. Tim. iy. 10), and wiiy seekest tliou to bring us 
into the like condemnation? Beside, if we at all turn aside, our Lord the King will cer- 
tainly hear thereof, and will there put us to shame, where we would stand with bold- 
lu'ss before him. 

Demas cried again that he also was one of their fraternity; and that if they would 
t.'irry a little he also would walk with them. 

Tlien said Christian, What is thy name? Is it not the same by the which I have called 
tlM'e? 

Dkmas. Yes, my name is Demas; I am the son of Abraham. 

CiiR. I know you; Gehazi was your great-grandfather, and Judas your father, and 
you have trod in their steps. It is but a devilish prank that tiiou usest; thy father was 
hinged for a traitor and thou deservest no better reward. (II. Kings v. 20-27; Matt, 
xxyi. 14, 15; xxvii. 3-5.) Assure thyself that when we come to the King we will tell 
him of this thy behavior. Thus they went their way. 

By this time By-ends and his companions were come again within sight, and they at 
the first beck went over to Demas. Kow, whether they fell into the pit by looking over 
the brink thereof, or whether they went down to dig, or Avlicther they were smathered 
in the bottom by tne damps that commonly arise, of these things I am not certain ; but 
this I observed, that they never were seen again in the way. Then sang Christian: 

By-ends and silver Demas both agree. 

One c .]ls, ihe oilier runs, that he may be 

A sharer in his lucre : so these do " 

Take up in this worid and no further go, 

y.L w I saw that just on the other side of this plain, the pilgrims came to a place 
where stood an old monument hard by the highway side ; at the sight of which they 
were both concerned, because of the strangeness of the form thereof, for it seemed to 
them as if it had been a woman transformed into the shape of a pillar. Here, therefore, 
they stood looking and looking upon it, but could not for a time tell what they should 
maice thereof. At last Hopeftil espied, written above, upon the head thereof, a writing 
in an unusal hand ; but he, being no scholar, called to Christian (for he was learned), 
to see if he could pick out the meaning; so he came, and alter a little laying of the let- 
ters togetiier, he lottnd the same to be this: *' Remember Lot's wife." So he read it to 
his fellow; after which they both concluded that that was the pillar of salt into which 
Lot'.s Aviie WBS ttirned for her looking back with a covetous heart when she was going 
from Sodom for safety. (Gen. xix. 26.) Which sudden and amazing sight gave them 
occasion for this discourse. 

CiiR. Ah, my brother, this is a seasonable sight; it came opportunely to us after the 
invitation which Demas gave us to come over and view the hill Lucre; and had we 
gouH over, as he desired us, and as thou wast inclined to do (my brother), we had, for 
au'ht I know, been made like this woman, a spectacle for those that shall come after to 
behold. 

Hope. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am made to wonder that I am not 
now as Lot's wife; for wherein was the dilierence betwixt her sin and mine? Siie only 
looked back, and I had a desire to go see; let grace be adored, and let me be ashamed 
that ever such a thing should be in mine heart. 

Chk. Let us take notice of what we see here for our help for time to come; this 
woman escaped one judgment, for .^he fell not by the destruction of Sodom, yet she was 
destroyed by another, as we see she is turned into a })illar of salt. 

Hope. True, and she may be to us botii caution and example; caution, that we 
should shun her sin ; or a sign of what judgment will overtake such as shall not be pre- 
vented by this catition; so Korah Dathan and Abiram, with the two hundred and fifty 
men that perished in their sin, did also become a sign or example to others to beware, 
(^'um. xxvi. 9, 10.) But, above all, I muse at one thing, to-wit, how Demas and his 
lellows can stand so confidently yonder to look for that treasure whicn this woman but 



THE PILGRIM^S PROGRESS. 47 

for looking behind her ^ter (for we read not that she stepped one foot out of the way) 
was turned into a pillar of salt; especially since the jud^nlent which overtook her did 
make her an example within sight of where they are; for they cannot choose but see 
her did they but lift up their eyes. 

ChR. It is a thing to be wondered at, and itargueth that their hearts are grown des- 
perate in the case, and I cannot tell who to compare them to so fitly as to them that 
pick pockets in the presence of the judge, or that will cut purses under the gallows. It 
is said of the men of Sodom that " they w^ere sinners exceedingly," because they were 
sinners "before theLord,'^ that is, in his eye-sight, and notwithstanding the kindnesses 
that he had showed them ; for the land of Sodom was now like the garden of Eden here- 
tofore. (Gen. xiii. 10, 13.) This, therefore, provoked him the more to jealousy, and 
made their plague as hot as the fire of the Lord out of heaven could make it. And it is 
most rationally to be concluded that such, even such as these are, that shall sin in the 
sight, yea, and that too in despite of such examples that are set continually before them 
to caution them to the contrary, must be partakers of severest judgments. 

Hope. Doubtless thou hast said the truth, but what a mercy is it, that neither thou, 
but especially I, am not made myself this example! This ministereth occasion to us to 
thank God, to fear before him, and always to remember Lot's wnfe. 

I saw then that they went on their way to a pleasant river which David the king 
called *' the River of God," but John ^' the Hiver of the Water of Life." (Psalm xlvi. 3; 
Ezek. xlvii. ; Rev. xxii. 1.) Now, their way lay just upon the bank of this river; here, 
therefore. Christian and his companion walked with great delight; they drank also of 
the water of the river, which was pleasant and enlivening to their weary spirits. Be- 
side, on the banks of this river, on either side, were green trees with all manner of fruit; 
and the leaves they ate to prevent surfeits, and other diseases that are incident to those 
that heat their blood by travels. On either side of the river was also a meadow, curi- 
ously beautified with lilies; and it was green all the year long. In this meadow they 
lay down and slept, for here they might lie down safely. (Psalm xxiii. ; Isa. xiv. 30.) 
When they awoke they gathered again of the fruit of the trees, and drank again of the 
water of the river, and then lay down again to sleep. Thus they did several days and 
uiLrhts. Then they sang — 

Behold ye how these crystal streams do glide, 

To comfort pilgrims by the higtiway side. 

The meadows green, beside their Jragrant smell, 

Yield dainties for them ; and he who can tell 

What pleasant fruit, yea, leaves these trees do yield, 

Will soon sell all, that he may buy this field. 

So when they were disposed to go on (for they were not as yet at their, journey's end), 
they ate, and drank, and departed. 

Now I beheld in my dream that they had not journeyed far, but the river and the 
way for a time parted, at which they were not a little sorry ; yet they durst not go out 
of the way. Now the way from the river was rough, and their feet tender by reason of 
their travels; so the souls of the pilgrims were much discouraged because of the way. 
(Nu.a. xxi. 4.) Wherefore, still as they went on, they wished for a better-way. Now, 
a little before them, there Avas on the left hand of the road a meadow, and a stile to go 
over it, and that meadow is called By-path Meadow. Then said Christian to his fellow. 
If this meadow lieth along by our way-side, let us go over into it. Then he went to the 
stile to see, and behold a paih-way lay along by the way on the other side of the fence. 
^Tis according to my wish, said Christian; here is the easiest going; come, good 
Hopeful, let us go over. 

Hope. But how if this path should lead us out of the way? 

That is not likely, said the other. Look, doth it not go along by the way-side? So 
Hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, went after him over the stile. When they 
were gone over, and were got into the path, they found it very easy for their feet; and 
withal, they, looking before them, espied a man walking as they did, and his name was 
Vain-Confidence ; so they called after him and asked him whither that way led. He 
said, To the Celestial Gate. Look, said Christian, did I not tell you so? by this you 
may see we are right. So they followed, and he went before them. But behold the 
night came on, and it grew very dai'k ; so they that went behind lost sight of him that 
went before. 

He therefore that went before (Yain-Confidence by name), not seeing the way before 
hkn, fell into a deep pit (Isa. ix. 16), v/hich was on purpose there made by the prince 



48 THE pilgrim's progress. 

of those grounds to catch vain-glorious fools withal, and was dashed in pieces with his 
fall. 

Now, Christian and his fellow heard him fall; so they called to know the matter — 
but there was none to answer, only they heard a groaning! Then said Hopeful, Where 
are we now? Then was his fellow silent, as mistrusting that he had led him out of the 
way, and now it began to rain, and thunder and lightning in a most dreadful manner, 
and the water rose amain. 

Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, Oh, that I had kept on my way! 

Chr. Who could have thought that this path should have led us out of the way? 

Hope. I was afraid on't at the very first, and therefore gave you that gentle caution. 
I would have spoke plainer, but that you are older than I. 

Chr. Good brother, be not offended ; I am sorry I have brought thee out of the way, 
and that I have put thee into such imminent danger ; pray, my brother, forgive me ; I 
did not do it of an evil intent. 

Hope. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee ; and believe, too, that this 
shall be for our good. .^ -,,.■,, . 

Chr. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother; but we must not stand here; 
let us try to ,eo back again. 

Hope. But, good brother, let me go before. 

Chr. No, if you please, let me go first, that, if there be any danger, I may be first 
therein* because by my means we are both gone cut of the way. 

Hope. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first; for, your mind being troubled, may 
lead vou* out of the way again. Then, for their encouragement, they heard the voice 
of one saving, ''Let thine heart be toward the highway; even the way that thou went- 
est turn agafn.'^ (Jer. xxxi. 21.) But by this* time the v^^aters were greatly risen, by 
reason of which the way of going back was very dangerous. (Then I thought, that it 
is easier going out of the way when we are in than going in when we are out.) Yet 
they adventured to go back, but it was so dark and the flood was so high that in their 
goin<y back they had liked to have been drowned nine or ten times. 

Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get to the stile that night. Where- 
fore at last, lighting under a little shelter, they sat down there till daybreak, but being 
weary they fell asleep. Now there was, not far from the place where they lay, a castle 
called Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair, and it was in his grounds 
they now were sleeping. Wherefore he, getting up in the morning early and walking 
up and down in his fields, caught Christian and Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then 
with a grim and surly voice he bid them awake, and asked them whence they were and 
what they did in his grounds. They told him they were pilgrims, and that they had 
lost their way. Then said the Giant, You have this night trespassed on me by tram- 
pling in and lying on my grounds, and therefore you must go along with me. So they 
were forced to go, because he was stronger than they. They also had but little to say, 
for thev knew themselves in a fault. The Giant, therefore, drove them before him and 
put them into his castle, into a very dark dungeon, nasty and stinking to the spirits of 
these two men. Here then they lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday night, 
without one bit of bread, or drop of drink, or light, or any to ask how they did ; they 
were therefore, here in evil case, and were far from friends and acquaintance. (Pslam 
Ixxxviii. 8.) Now, in this place Christian had double sorrow, because it was through 
his unadvised counsel that they were brought into this distress. 

Now Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Difiidence; so, when he was gone 
to bed he told his Avif e what he had done ; to-wit, that he had taken a couple of prison- 
ers and cast them into his dungeon for trespassing on his grounds. Then he asked her 
also what he had best do further to "them ? So she asked what they were, whence they 
came and whither they were bound ; and he told ;her. Then she counseled him, that 
when he arose in the morning he should beat them without mercy. So when he arose 
he cetteth him a grievous crab-tree cudgel and goes down into the dungeon to them, 
and there first falls to rating of them as if they were dogs, although they gave him 
never a word of distaste; then he falls upon them, and beats them fearfully, in such 
sort that they were not able to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor. This 
done he withdraws, and leaves them there to condole their misery, and to mourn under 
their^distress; so all that day they spent their time in nothing but sighs and bitter 
lamentations. The next night she, talking with her husband further about them, and 
understanding that they were yet alive, did advise him to counsel them to make away 
with themselves. So, when morning was come, he goes to them in a surly manner as 



THE PILGKIM'S PROGRESS. 49 

before, and perceiving them to be very sore with the stripes that he had g'ven them the 
day before, he told them that since they were never like to come out of that place, their 
only way would be forthwith to make an end of themselves, either with knife, halter, 
or poison; for why, said he, sliould you choose to live, seeijig it is attended with so 
much bitterness? But they desired him to let them go. With that he looked w^ly 
upon them, and, rushing to them, had doubtless made an end of them himself, but that 
he fell into one of his fits (for he sometimes, in sunshiny weather, fell into fits), and lout 
for a time the use of his hands. Wherefore he withdrew, and left them as before, »o 
consider what to do. Then did the prisoners consult between themselves whether it 
was best to take his counsel or no; and thus they began to discourse. 

Chr. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do? The life that we now live is miff- 
er.ible. For my part, I know not whether it is best to live thus, or to die out of hand; 
'' My soul chooseth strangling rather than life" (Job vii. 15), and the grave is more easy 
for me than this dungeon ! Shall we be ruled by the giant? 

Hope. Indeed, our present condition is dreadful, and death would be far more wel- 
come to me than thus forever to abide ; but yet let us consider, the Lord of the country 
to which we are going hath said, *'Thou shalt do no murder;'' no, not to another 
^ .an's person ; much more then are we forbidden to take his counsel to kill ourselves. 
Besides, he that kills another can but commit murder upon his body; but for one to 
hill himself is to kill boay and soul at once. And moreover, my brother, thou talkest 
o^ ease in the grave, but hast thou forgotten the hell whither for certain the murderers 
go? For "no murderer hath eternal life,'' etc. And let us consider again, that all the 
law is not in the hand of Gi«int Despair; others, so far as I can understand, have been 
taken by him as well as we, and yet have escaped oiit of his hands. Who knows but 
th.at God, who made the world, may cause tuat Giant Despair may die, or that, at some 
time or other, he may forget to lock us in ; or that he may in a short time have another 
of his fits before us, and may lose the use of his limbs? And if ever that should come 
to pass again, for my part I am resolved to pluck up the heart of a man and to try my 
utmost to get from under his iiand. I was a fool that I did not try to do it before ; but 
liov/ever, my brother, let us be patient and endure a v/hile; the time may come that 
may give us a happy release — but let us not be our own murderers. With these words 
Hopeful at^Dresent did moderate the mind of his brother; so they continued together 
in the dark that day, in their sad and doleful condition. 

Well, toward evening the Giant goes down into the dungeon again to see if his pris- 
oners had taken his counsel; but when he came there he found them alive; and truly, 
alive was all, for now, what for want of bread and water and by reason of the wounds 
they received when he beat them, they could do little but breathe. But, I say, he 
found them alive, at which he fell into a grievous rage and told them that, seeing they 
had disobeyed his counsel it should be worse with them than if they had never been 
born. 

At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian fell into a swoon; but, 
coming a little to himself again, they renewed their discourse about the Giant's counsel 
and wkether yet they had best take it or no. Now, Christian again seemed for doing 
it, but Hopeful made his second reply as followeth : 

Hope. My brother, said he, rememberest thou not how valiant thou hast been here- 
tofore? ApoUyon could not crush thee, nor could all that thou didst hear, or see, or 
leel in the valley of the Shadow of Death; what hardship, terror and amazement hast 
thou already gone through, and art thou now nothing but fears? Thou seest that I am 
in the danger with thee, a far weaker man by nature than thou art ; also this Giant hath 
wounded me as well as thee, and hath also cut oft' the bread and water from my mouth, 
and with thee I mourn without the light. But let us exercise a little more patience: 
remember how thou playedst the man at Vanity I'air, and wast neither afraid of the 
chain nor cage, nor yet of bloody death; wherefore let us (at least to avoid the shame 
that becomes not a Christian to be found in) bear up with patience as well as we can. 

Now, night being come again, and the Giant and his wife being in bed, she asked 
him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his counsel, to which he replied, 
They are sturdy rogues; they choose rather to bear all hardships than to make away 
with themselves. Then said she. Take them into the castle-yard to-morrow and show 
them the bones and skulls of those thou hast already despatched, and make them be- 
lieve, ere a week comes to an end, thou will tear them in pieces as thou hast done their 
fellows before them. 

So when the morning was come the Giant goetf to them again and takes them into the 



50 THK PILGEIM'S PROGRESS. 

castle-yard, and shows them as his wife had bidden him. These, said he, were pil- 
grims, as you are, once, and they trespassed in my grounds, as you have done; and 
when I thought fit I tore them in pieces; and so within ten days I will do you. Get 
you down to your den again ; and with that he beat them all the way thither. They 
lay, therefore, all day on Saturday in a lamentable case as before. Now, when night 
was come, and when Mrs Diffidence and her husband the Giant were got to bed, they 
began to renew their discourse of their prisoners; and, withal, the old Giant wondered 
that he could neither by his blows or counsel bring them to an end. And with that 
his wife replied, I fear, said she, that they live in hopes that some will come to relieve 
them, or that they have pick! ocJcs about them, by the means of which they hope to es- 
cape. And sayest thou so, my dear? said the Giant; I will therefore search them in 
the morning. 

Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in prayer 
till almost break of day. 

Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, broke out into 
this passionate speech : What a fool, quoth he, am I,»thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, 
when I may as well walk at liberty! I have a key in my bosom called Promise, that 
will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle. Then said Hopeful, That's 
good news, good brother; pluck it out of thy bosom and try. 

Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom and began to try at the dungeon door, 
whose bolt, as he turned on the key, gave back, and the door flew open with ease, and 
Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he went to the outward door that leads 
into the castle-yard, and with this key opened that door also. After, he went to the 
iron gate, for that must be opened too ; but that lock went damnable hard, yet the key 
did open it. Then they thrust open the gate to make their escape with speed, but 
that gate as it opened made such a creaking that it waked Giant Despair, who hastily 
risin^^ to pursue his prisoners felt his limbs to fail, for his fits took him again, so that 
he could by no means go after them. Then they went on and came to the King's 
highway, and so were safe, because, they were out of his jurisdiction. 

Now^ when they were gone over the stile, they began to contrive with themselves 
what they should do at that stile to prevent those that shall come after from falling 
into the hand of Giant Despair. So they consented to erect there a pillar, and to 
engrave upon the side thereof this sentence, ''Over this stile is the way to Doubting 
Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the King of the Celestial 
Country, and seeks to destroy his holy pilgrims.'^ Many, therefore, that followed after 
read what was written and escaped the danger This done they sang as follows : 

*' Out of the way we went, and then we found, 
What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground: 
And let them that come after have a care 
Lest heedlessness makes them as we to fare : 
Lest they, for trespassing, his pris'ners are, 
Whose castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair." 



THE EIGHTH STAGE. 

They went then till they came to the Delectable Mountains, which mountains 
belong to the Lord of that hill of which we have spoken before ; so they went up to 
the mountains, to behold the gardens and orchards, the vineyards and fountains of 
water; where also they drank and washed themselves, and did freely eat of the vine- 
yards. Now, there were on the tops of the mountains shepherds feeding their flocks, 
and they stood by the highway side. The pilgrims, therefore, went to them, and 
leaning upon their staves, (as is common with weary pilgrims when they stand to talk 
with any by the way), they asked, *' Whose Delectable Mountains are these? And 
whose be the sheep tiiat feed upon them?" 

Shep. These mountains are Emanuel's Land, and they are within sight of his city; 
and the sheep also are his, and he laid down his life for them. (John x. 11, 15.) 

Chr. Is this the way to the Celestial City? 

Shep. You are just in your way. 

Chr. How far is it thither? 

Shep. Too far for any but those that shall get thither indeed. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGKKSsS. 61 

Che. Is the way safe or dangerous? 

Shep. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe ; " but transgressors sliall fall there- 
in." (Hos. xiv. 9.) 

Chr. Is there in this place any relief for pilgrims that are weary and faint in th? 
way ? 

Shep. The Lord of these mountains hath given us a charge, ''Not to be forgetful 
to entertain strangers" (Heb. xiii. 2): therefore the good of the place is before you. 

I saw also in my dream that when the shepherds perceived that they were wayfaring 
men th«y also put questions to them (to which they made answer, as in otner places), 
as, Whence came you? and, how got you into the way? and, By what means have you 
so persevered therein? for but a few of them that begin to come hither do show their 
f ice on these mountains. But when the shepherds heard their answers, being pleased 
therewith, they looked very lovingly upon them, and said, Welcome to the Delectable 
Mountains. 

Tiie shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful and Sin- 
cere, took them by their hand and had them to their tents, and made them partake of 
tiiat which was ready at present. They said, moreover. We would that you should 
stay liere awhile to be acquainted with us, and yet more to solace yourselves with the 
good of these Delectable Mountains. Then they told them that they w^ere content to 
s.ay. And so they went to their rest that night because it was very late. 

Then I saw in my dream that in the morning the shepherds called up Christian and 
ll()j)eful to walk with them upon the mountains. So they w^ent forth with them and 
walked awhile, having a pleasant prospect on every side. Then said the shepherds, 
one to another. Shall w^e show these pilgrims some wonders? So, when they had con- 
fiuded to do it, they had them first to the top of the hill called Error, which was very 
steep on the furthest side, and bid them look down to the bottom. So Christian and 
Hopeful looked down and saw at the bottom several men dashed all to pieces by a fall 
that they had from the top. Then said Christian, What meaneth this? The shepherds 
arisw ered, Have you not heard of them that were made to err by barkening to Hyme- 
neus and Philetus (II. Tim. ii. 17, 18) as concerning the faith of the resurrection of the 
bo iy? They aswered. Yes. Then said the shephers. Those that you see lie daslied 
in pieces at the bottom of this mountain are they, and they have continued to this 
day unburied, as you see, for an example to others to take heed how they clamber too 
hi-ih, or how they come too near the brink of this mountain. 

Then I saw that they had them to the top of another mountain, and the name of that 
is Caution, and bid them look afar off; which, when they did, they perceived, as they 
thought, several men walking up and down among the tombs that were there; and 
they perceived that the men were blind, because they stumbled sometimes upon the 
tombs, and because they could not get out from among them. Then said Christian, 
What means this? 

The shepherds then answered. Did you not see a little below these mountains, a stile 
til at led into a meadow on the left hand of this way? They answered. Yes. Then said 
tiie shepherds, From that stile there goes a path that leads directly to Doubting Castle, 
wnich is kept by Giant Despair, and these men (pointing to them among the tombs) 
came once on a pilgrimage, as you do now, even till they came to that same stile. And, 
because the right way was rough in that place, they chose to go out of it into that 
meadow, and there were taken by Giant Despair and cast into Doubting Castle, where, 
after they had awhile been kept in the dungeon, he at last did put out their eyes, and 
led them among these tombs, where he has left them to wander to this very day, that 
the saying of the w^ise men might be fulfilled, " He that wandereth out of the way of 
understanding shall remain in the congregation of the dead." (Prov. xxi. 16.) Then 
Christian and Hopeful looked upon one another, with tears gushing out, but yet said 
nothing to the shepherds. 

Then I saw in my dream that the shepherds had them to another place, in a bottom 
\\ here was a door in the side of a hill ; and they opened the door and bid them look in. 
They looked in, therefore, and saw that within it was very dark and smoky; they 
also thought that they heard here a rumbling noise ?'S of fire, and a cry af some tor- 
mented, and that they smelt the scent of brimstone. Then said Christian What means 
this? The shepherds told them, Tiiis is a by-way to hell, a way that hypocrites go in at; 
namely, such as sell their birthri^iht, with Esau; such as sell their master, with Judas; 
such as blaspheme the gospel, with Alexander; and that lie aud dissemble, with Ana- 
nias and Sapphira his wife. 



52 THE pilgrim's PROGRSSS. 

Then said Hopeful to the siiepherds, I perceive that these had on them, even every 
one, a show of pil.sjriniage, as we have now; had they not? 

Shep. Yes, and held it a long time, too. 

Hope. How far might they go on in pilgrimage in their days, since they, notwith- 
standing, were thus miserably cast away? 

Shep. Some farther, and some not so far as these mountains. 

Then said the piJgrims, one to tlTe other. We had need to cry to the strong for strength. 

Shep. Ay, and you will have need to use it when you have it, too. 

By this time the pilgrims had a desire to go forward, and the Shepherds a» desire 
they sliould ; so they w^alked together toward the end of the mountains. Then said the 
shepherds one to another. Let us here show the pilgrims the gates of the Celestial City 
if they have skill to look through our perspective-glass. The pilgrims lovingly ac- 
epted the motion ; so they had them to the top of a Migh hill called Clear, and gave 
til em a glass to look. 

Then they tried to look, but the remembrance of that last thing that the shepherds 
had shown them made their hands shake, by me ns of which impediment they coulu 
not look steadily through the glass; yet they thought they saw something like a gate, 
and also some of the glory of the place. Then they v/ent away, and sang this song : 

Thus by the shepherds secrets are reveal'd, 
Wliich 'from all oihcr men . re ke|.t co..ceai'd; 
Come TO th.' shepherds, ihen, if you wo dd sea 
Things dv-ep, thiu^^s hid, and lh.it mysterious be. 

When they "were about to depart one of the shepherds gave them a note of the way. 
Another of them bid them beware of the flatterer. The tnird bid them take heed that 
they slep not upon enchanted ground. The louith bid them Godspeed. So I awoke 
from my dream. 



THE NINTH STAGE. 

And I slept and dreamed again, and saw the same two pilgrims going down the moun- 
tains along the highway toward the city. Now, a. little below these mountains, on the 
left hand, lieth the country of Conceit, from which country there comes into the 
way in wliich the pilgrims walked a little, crooked lane. Here, therefore, they met 
with a verv brisk lad that came out of that country, and his name was Ignorance. So 
Christian asked him from what parts he came, and whither he was going? 

Ignor. Sir, I was born in the country tnat licth off there a little on the left hand, 
and I am going to the Celestial City. 

Chr. But how do you think to get in at the gate? for you may find some difficul- 
ties til ere. 

As otner good people do, said he. 

CiiR. But what have you to show at the gate, that the gate should be opened to 
you? 

Igxor. I know my Lord's will, and have been a good liver; I pay every man 
his own; I pray, fast, pay tithes, and give alms, and have left my country for 
whither I am going. 

Chr. But thou camest not in at the Wicket-gate that is at the head of this way; thou 
camest in hither through that same crooked lane, and therefore J fear, however thou 
mayest thxuk of thyself, -when tiie reckoning-day shall come, thou wilt have laid to 
thy charge that tnou art a thief and a robber, instead of getting admittance into the 
city. 

Ignor. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me, I know you not; be content to fol- 
low the religion of your country, and 1 will follow the religion of mine. I hope all 
will be well. And as for the gate that you talk of, all the world kift)ws that it is a great 
way off of our country. 1 cannot think that any man in all our parts doth so much as 
know the way to it; nor need they matter whether they do or no, since we have, as 
you see, a fine, pleasant, green Line tiiat comes down from our country, the next way 
into the way. 

Wnen diristian saw that the man was wise in his own conceit he said to Hopeful, 
whisperiugly, *< There is more hope of u looi than of hior'' (Frov. xxvi. 12); and said, 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGltKISiS. 53 

moreover, ^' When he that is a fool walketh by the way, his wisdom faileth him, and he 
saith to eveiy one that he is a fool/' (Eccl. x. 3.) \Vjiiii! shall we talk further wiih 
him, or outgo him at present, and so leave him to think ol' what he hath heard already, 
and then stop again for him afterward, and see if by degrees we can do any good io 
him? Then said Hopeful — 

Let Ignorance a little while now muse 
On what is said, and let him not refuse 
Good counsel to embrace, lest he remain 
Still ig .orant of what's t.:e c'.nefest gain. 
God saith, those that no urdersta: ding have, 
Although he made them, them he will not save. 

He further added, It is noti^ood, I think, to say so to him all at once; lei us pass 
him by, if you will, and talK to him aiion, even as he is "able t > bear it/' 

So they both went on, and Ignorance he came after. Now, when they had lyamin] 
him a little way they entered into a verv dark lane, where tliey met a man wliOm sfeV^en 
devils had bound with seven strong cords, and were a-carrying him back to tlie don..' 
that they saw on the side of the hill. (Matt. xii. 45; Prov. v. 22.) Ncav gu<jd Cnris- 
tian began to tremble, and so did Hopeful his comijaaion; yet, as the devils led away 
the man Christian looked to see if he knew him, and he thought it might be one Turn- 
away, that dwelt in the town of Apostasy. Bnt he did not perfectly see his face;, for he 
did hang his head like a thief that is found. Bat being gone p. st. Hopeful looked 
after him and spied on his back a paper with this inscription: '' Wanton proiessor and 
damnable apostate." 

Then said Christian to his fellow, Now I call to remembrance that which was told 
me of a thing that happened to be a good man hereabout. The n.ime of the man was 
Little-faith, but a good man, and he dwelt m the town o£ Sincere. The thing was this: 
at the entering in at this passage there comes down from Broadway-gate a lane called 
Dead-man's-la le, so called because of the murders that are commonly done there; and 
this Little-faith, going on pilgrimage as we ao now, cnanced to sit down there and sleep ; 
now, tnere happened at that time to come down the lane from Broadway-gare three 
sturdy rogues, and their names were Faint-heart, Mistrust and Gu It, three brothers; 
and they spying Little-faith where he was came gal.op'ng up with speed. Now, the 
good man was just awakened from his sleep, and was g.ttin^ up t > go on his journey. 
So they came up all to him, and with threatening language bid him stand. At this 
Little-taith looked as white as a clout, and had neither power to fight or fly. Then said 
Faint-heart, Deliver thy purse ; but he making no haste to do it (for he was loath to 
lose his money) Mistrust ran up to him, and thrusting his hand into his poclvet, pulled 
out thence a bag of silver. Tuen he cried out, "Thieves, thieves! " With that, Guiit, 
with a great club that was in his hand, struck Little-faith on the head, and with that 
blow feiied him flat to the ground, where he jay bleeding as "one that would bleed to 
death. All this while the t.iieves stood by. But at last, they hear.ng that some were 
upon the road, and fearing lest it should be one Great-Grace, thatuwells in the town of 
Good-Confidence, they betook themselves to their heels, and left this good man to shift 
for himself. Now, after a whi e Little-faith came to himself, and, getting up, made 
ehiit to scramble on his way. This was the stoiy. 

Hope. But did they take from him all that ever he had? 

Chr. No ; the place where his jewels were they never ransacked ; so those he kept 
stilL But, as I was told, the good man was much afflicted lor his loss, for the thieves 
got most of his spending-money. That which they got not (as I said) were jewels; also 
he had a little odd money left, but .-.carce enouga to bring him to his journey's end. 
(1, Peter iv. 18.) Nay (if I was not misinformed), he was forced to beg as he went to 
keep him self alive, for his je\vels he might not sell; but, hv.g and do wnat he could, he 
went, as we say, with many a hungry beily the most part of the rest of the way. 

Hope. But is it not a wonder taey got not from him his certificate by whicii he was 
to receive his admittance at the Celestial Gate? 

Chb. It is a wonder ; but they got not that, though they missed it not throusch any 
good cunning of his; for he, being dismayed with their coming upon him, had neither 
power nor skill to hide anything; so it was more by good Providence than by his en- 
deavor that they missed ot that good thing. (II. Tim. i. 14; II. Peter ii. 9.) 

Hope. But it must needs be a comfort to him that they got not this jewel from 
him. 

Chr, It might have been great comfort to him had he used it as he should ; but 



54 THE pilgrim's PROGEESa. 

they that told mc the stoiy said that he made hut little use of it all the rest of the way, 
and that because of the dismay that be had in their taking away his money. Indeed, 
he forgot it a great part of the rest of his journey; and besides, when at any time it 
came into his mind, and he began to be comforted therewith, then would fresh thoughts 
of his loss come again upon him, and these thoughts would swallow up all, 

Hope. Alas, poor man ! this cou^l not but be a grief to him. 

Chr. Grief! ay, a grief indeed. AVould it not liave been so to any of us, had we 
been used as he, to be robbed and wounded too, and that in a strange place, as he was ? 
1 1 is a wonder he did not die with grief, poor heart! I was told that he scattered al- 
most all the rest of the way with nothing but doleful and bitter complaints: telling 
also to all that overtook liim, or that he overtook in the way as he went, where he was 
robbed, and how; who they were that did it, and what lie had lost; how he was 
wounded, and that he hardly escaped with life. 

Hope. But it is a wonder that his necessity did not put him upon selling or pawn- 
incT some of his jewels, that he might have wherewith to relieve himself in his journey. 

CiiR. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is the shell to this very day : for what 
sliould he pawn them? or to whom should he sell them ? In all that country where he 
was robbed, his jewels were not accounted of; nor did he want that relief which could 
from thence be administered to him. Beside, had his jewels been missing at the gate of 
the Celestial City, he had (and that he knew well enough) been excluded from an in- 
iieritance there ; and that would have been worse to him than the appearance and vil- 
lainy of ten thousand thieves. 

Hope. Why art thy so tart, my brother? Esau sold his birthright, and that for a 
mess of pottage (Heb. xii. IGj, and that birthright was his greatest jewel; and if he, 
why might not Little-Faith do so too? ^ 

Chr. Esau did sell his birthright, indeed, and so do many beside, and by so doing, 




L.ttiC-Faith's belly was not so. Esau's want lay in his fleshly appetite; Little-Faith's 
did not so. Beside, Esau could see no further than to the fulfilling of his lu«ts : "For 
I am at the point to die (said he), and what good will this birthright do me?" (Gen. 
XXV. 32.) But Little-Failh, though it was his lot to have but a little faith, was by his 
l.itle faith kept from such extravagances, and made to see and prize his jewels more 
than to sell them as Esau did his birthright. You read not anywhere that Esan had 
faith, no, not so much as a little ; therefore no marvel, if where the flesh only bears 
sway (as it will in that man where no faith is to resist), if he sells his birthright, and 
his soul and all, and that to the devil of hell; for it is with such as it is with the ass, 
*' Who in her occasions cannot be turned away." (Jer. ii. 24.) When their minds 
are set upon their lusts, they will have them, whatever they cost. But Little- 
Faith was of another temper; his mind was on things divine; his livelihood 
was upon things that were spiritual and from above ; therefore, to what end should he 
that is of such a temper sell his jewels (had there been any that would have bought 
them), to fill his mind with empty things? A¥ill a man give a penny to fill his belly 
with hay? or can you persuade the turtle-dove to live upon carrion like the crow?" 
Tiiough faithless ones can, for carnal lusts, pawn, or mortgage, or sell what they have, 
and themselves outright to boot, yet they that have faith, saving faith, though but a 
little of it, cannot do so. Here, therefore, my brother, is thy mistake. 

Hope. I acknowledge it; but yet your severe reflection had aimost made me angry. 

CiiR. Why, I did but compare thee to some of the birds that are of the brisker sort, 
who will run to and fro in untrodden paths with the shell upon their heads. But pass 
by that, and consider the matter under debate, and all shall be well betwixt thee and 



me. 



Hope. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am persuaded in my heart, are but a 
(ompany of cowards; would they have run else, tiiink you, as tiiey did, at the noise of 
hne that was coming on the road? Wiiy did not Little-Faith pluck up a greater heart? 
He might, methink, have stood one brush with taem, and have yielded when there had 
been no remedy. 

Chr. That they are cowards, many have said, but few have found it so in the time of 
trial. As for a great heart, Little-Faith had none ; and I perceive l)y thee, my brother, 
hadst thou been the man concerned, thou art imt for a brush and then to yield. And 
verily, since thisisthe height of thy stomaeh now they are at a distance from us, should 
they appear to thee as they did to him, they might put thee to second thoughts. 



THE PILGRTIVI'S PROGRESS, 55 

But consider again, they are but journeymen thieves ; they serve under the king of 
the bottomless pit, who, if need be, will come to their aid himself, and his voice is as 
the roaring of a lion. (I. Pet. v. S.) 1 myself have been engaged as this Little-Faith 
was; and I found it a terrible thing. Tnese three villains set upon me, and I beginning 
like a Christian to resist, they gave but a call, and in came their master ; I would, as the 
Baying is, have given my life for a penny; but that, as God would have it, I was clothed 
with armor of proof. Ay, and yet, though I was so harnessed, I found it hard work 
to quit myself like a man ; no man can tell what in that combat attends us but he 
that hath been in the battle himself. 

Hope. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did but suppose that one Great-Grace 
was in the way. 

Chk. True, they have often fled, both they and their master, when Great-Grace hath 
but appeared; and no marvel, for he is the King's champion ; but, I trow, 'you will 
put some difference between Little-Faith and the King's cham]>ion. All the King's sub- 
jects are not his champions ; nor can they, when tried, do such feats of war as he. Is 
it meet to think that a little child should handle Goliath as David did; or that there 
should be the strength of an ox in a wren? Some are strong, some are weak; some 
have great faith, some have little; this man was one of the weak, and therefore he went 
to the wall. 

Hope. I would it had been Great-Grace, for their sakes. 

Chr. If it had been he, he might have had his hands full; for I must tell you that 
though Great-Grace is excellent good at his weapons, and has, and can, so4ong as he 
keeps them at sword's point, do well enough with them, yet if they get within him, 
even Faint-heart, Mistrust, or the other, it shall go hard but they will throw up his heels ; 
and when a man is down, you know, what can he do? 

Whoso looks well upon Great-Grace's face will see those scars and cuts there that 
shall easily give demonstration of what I say. Yea, once I heard that he should say, 
(and that when he was in the combat), "We despaired even of life.'* How did these 
sturdy rogues and their fellows make David groan, mourn, and roar ! Yea, Heman and 
Hezekiah too, though champions in their days, were forced to bestir them when by 
these assaulted; and yet, notwithstanding, they had their coats soundly brushed by 
them. Peter, upon a time, would go try what he could do ; but though some do say of 
him that he is the piHnce of the apostles, they handled him so that they made him at 
last afraid of a sorry girl. 

Besides, their king is at their whistle ; he is never out of hearing; and if at any time 
N they be put to the worst, he, if possible, comes in to help them; and of him it is said, 
*' the sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold ; the spear, the dart, nor the ha- 
bergeon ; he esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotton wood ; the arrow cannot make 
him fly; sling-stones are turned with him into stubble; darts are counted as stubble; he 
laugheth at the shaking of a spear. (Job xli. 26-29.) What can a man do in this case? 
It is true, if a man could at every turn have Job's horse, and had skill and courage to 
ride him, he might do notable things; for "his neck is clothed with thunder; he will 
not be afraid as a grasshopper; the glory of his nostrils is terrible ; he paweth in the 
valley, and rejoiceth in his strength; he goeth on to meet the armed men; he mocketh 
at fear, and is not affrighted, neither turneth he back from the sword ; the quiver rat- 
tieth against him, the glittering spear and the shield; he swalloweth the ground with 
fierceness and rage, neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. He saith 
among the trumpets, Ha, ha ! and he smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the cap- 
tains, and the shoutings. *' (Job xxxix ; 19-25). 

But, for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never desire to meet with an enemy, 
nor vaunt as it we could do better, when we hear of others that have been foiled; nor 
be tickled at the thoughts of our own manhood, for such commonly come by the worst 
when tried. Witness Peter, of whom I made mention before ; he would swagger, ay, 
he would ; he would, as his vain mind prompted him to say, do better and stand more 
for his Master than all men; but who so foiled and run down by those villains as he ? 

When, therefore, we hear that such robberies are done on the king's highway, two 
things become us to do ; First, to go out harnessed, and to be sure to take a shield with 
us ; for it was for want of that, that he who layed so lustily at Leviathan could not make 
him yield ; for, indeed, if that be wanting, he fears us not at all. Therefore he that 
hath skill hath said, "Above all, take the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to 
quench all the;fiery dart£»of the wicked.*' (Eph. vi. 16.) 

It is good also that we desire of the King a convoy, yea, th^t He will go with us him- 



56 THE PLLGKIM'S BKOGRESS. 

self. This made DaVid rejo'lce when in the Valley of the Shadow of Death ; and ^NEo.ses 
was rather for dying where he stood, than to go one step without liis God. (ii^xod. 
xxxiii. 15.) Oh, my brother, if he will but go a,iong Vith us, what need we be afraid of 
ten thousand that shall set themselves against us? But without Him, the proud helpers 
fall under the slain. (Psalms iii. 6 ; xxvii. 1-3; Isa. x. 4). 

I, for my part, have been in the fray before now; and though through the goodness of 
Him that is best, I am, as you see, alive, yet I cannot boast of any manhood. Glad shall I 
be if I meet with no more such brunts; though I tear we are not got beyond all dan- 
ger. However, since the lion and the bear have not as yet devoured me, I hope 
God will also deliver us from the next uncircumcised Phiiistine. Xlieu sang 
Ciiristian— 

Poor Little-Faith I hast been among the thieves? 

Wast robb'd ? Remember this, whoso believes. 
And get more faith, then shall you -victors be 
Over len tiiousaud — else scarce over three. 

So they went on, and Ignorance followed. They went then till they came at a place 
where tiiey say a way put itself into their way, and seemed withal to lie as straigiit as 
the way which they should go; and here they knew not which of the two to^ take, 
for both seemed straight before them; therefore here they stood still to consider. And 
as they were thinking about the way, behold a man black of flesh, but covered with a 
very liiiht robe, came to them, and asked them why they stood there? They answered, 
they were going to the Celestial City, but knew not which of these ways to take. "Fol- 
low me," said tne man, "it is thither that I am going." So they followed him in the 
way that but now came into the road, which by degrees turned, and turned them so far 
from the city, that they desired to go to, that in a little time their faces were turned 
away from it; yet they followed him. But by and by, before they were aware, he led 
them both Within the compass of a net, in which they were both so entangled that they 
knew not what to do; and with that the white robe fell oft' the black man's back ; then 
they saw where they were. Wherefore there they lay crying some time, for they could 
not get themselves out. 

Che. Then said Cnristian to his fellow, Now do I see myself in an error. Did not 
the Shepherds bid us beware of the Flatterer? As is the saying of the wise man, so we 
have found it this day, "A man that flattereth kLs neighbor, spreadeth a net for his 
feet." (Prov. xxix. 5.) 

Hope. They also gave us a note of direction abo;Tt the way, for our more sure find- 
ing taereof ; but therein we have also f>)rgotten to read, and have not kept ourselves 
from the "paths of the destroyer." Here David w^as wiser than we; for, saith he, 
" Concerning the works qJL men, by the word of thy lips I have kept me from the paths 
of the destroyer." (Psalm xvii. 4.) 

Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the net. At last they espied a shining one 
coming toward them with a whip of small cords in his hand. Wlien he was come to 
the place where they were, he asked them whence they came, and what they did tnere? 
They told him, that they were poor pilgrims going to Zion, but were led out of their 
way by a. black man clothed in white, who bid us, said they, follow him, for he was goin^ 
thither too. Then said he with the whip. It is Flatterer, "a false apostle, that hath 
transformed himself into an angel of light." (II. Cor. xi. 14, 15 ; Dan. xi. 32.) So he rent 
the net, and let the men out. Then said he to them. Follow me, that I may set you in 
your way again; so he led them back to the way which they had left to follow the Flat- 
terer, Then he asked them, saying, Where did you lie the last night? They said, 
With the Shepherds upon the Delectable Mountains. He asked them then, if they ha I 
not of the Shepherds a note of direction for the way? They answered. Yes. But did 
you not, said he, when you were at a stand, pluck out and read your note? They an- 
swered. No. He asked them, Why? They say they forget. He asked, moreover, if 
the Shepherds did not bid them beware of the Flatterer? They answered, Yes; but 
we did not imagine, said they, that this fine-spoken man had been he. (Komana 
xvi. 17, 18.) 

Then I saw in my dream that he commanded them to lie down; which when they dicF, 
he chastised them sore, to teach them the good way wherein they should walk. (II Chron. 
vi. 27.) And as he chastised them, he s^jd, "Asmany as I love, I rebuke and chast- 
en; be zealous, therefore, and repent*^' (Rev, iii. 19.) This done, he bids them go on 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGTIESSi 57 

their ^ray, and take good heed to the other directions of the shepherds. So they 
thanked him for his kindness, and went softly the right way, singing along: 

Come hither, you that walk along the way; 
See how tlie pilgrims fare llial go astray ; 
They catched are in an entangled net, 
'Cause they good counsel li^litly did lorget; 
'Tis trii'^, they rescued were; but yet, you see 
They're scourged to boot — let this your caution be. 

Now, after a while they perceived afar off one coming softly, and alone, all aiongtlie 
highway, to meet them. Then said Christian to his fellow. Yonder is a man with his 
back toward Zion, and he is coming to meet us. 

Hope. I see him; let us take heed to ourselves now, lest he should prove a flatterer 
also. So he drcAv nearer and nearer, and at last came up to them. His name was 
Atheist; and he asked them whither they were going? 

Chr, We are going to Mount Zion. 

Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter. 

Chr. What is the meaning of your laughter? 

Ath. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, to take upon you so tedious a 
journey; and yet are like to have nothing but your travel for your pains. 

Chr. Why, man, do you think we shall not be received? 

Ath. Received! there is not such a place as you dream of in all this world. 

Chr. But there is in the world to come. 

Ath. When I was at home, in mine own country, I heard 'as you now afhrm, and 
from that hearing went out to see, and have been seeking this city these twenty years, 
but find no more of it than I did the first day I set out. (Eccl. x. 15; Jer. xvii.* 15.) 

Chr. We have both heard and believe that there is such a place to be found. 

Ath. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had not come thus far to seek; but find- 
ing none (and yet I should, had there been such a place to be found, for I have gone 
farther to seek it than you) I am going back again, and will seek to refresh myself with 
the things which I then cast away for hopes of that which I now see is not. 

Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful, his companion, Is it true which this man 
hath said? 

Hope. Take heed, he is one of the flatterers; remember what it cost us once al- 
ready for hearkening to such kind of fellows. What! no Mount Zion? Did we not 
see from the Delectable Mountains the gate of the city? Also, are we not now to walk 
by faith? (II. Cor. v. 7.) Let us go on lest the man with the Avhip overtake us again. You 
should have taught me that lesson, which I will sound you in the ears withal. '' Cease, 
my son, to hear the instrtiction that causetii to err from the words of knowledge." 
(Prov. xix. 37; Heb. x. 39.) I say, my brother, cease to hear him, and let us believe to 
the saving of the soul. 

Chr. My brother, I did not put the question to thee for that I doubted the truth of 
our belief myself, but to prove thee, and to fetch from tiiee a fruit of the honesty of 
thy heart. As for this man, I know that he is blinded by the god of this world. Let 
thee and me go on, knowing that we have belief of the truth; and "no lie is of the 
truth." (L John ii. 21.) 

Hope. Now I do rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. So they turned away 
from the man; and he, laughing at them, went his way. 

I then saw in my dream that they went on until they came into a certain country 
Avhose air naturally tended to make one drowsy, if he came a stranger into it. And here 
Hopeful began to be very dull and heavy to sleep ; wherefore he said unto Christian, I 
<lonow begin to grow so drowsy that I can scarcely hold open mine eyes; let us lie down 
here and take one nap. 

By no means, said the ot^ier; lest, sleeping, we never wake more. 

Hope. Why, my brother? sleep is sweet to the laboring man; we may be refreshed 
if we take a nap. 

Chr. Do you not remember that one of the shepherds bid us beware of the Enchanted 
Ground? He meant by that that we should beware of sleeping — "Wherefore let us 
not skep, as do others ; but let us watch, and be ^ober.'^ (I. Thess. v. 6.) 

Hope. I acknowledge myself in a fault; and, had I been here a. one, I had by sleeping 
run the danger of de;'th. I fee it is true ti;at the wise man saith, "Two are betterthau 
one." (Eccl. iv.9.) Hitherto hath thy gom]uiny been my mercy; and thou shalt have 
a good reward for thy labor. 



5S THE pilgrim's progress. 

OflR. "J^ToTV then, said Christian, to prevent drowsiness in this place, let us fall into 
good disccm-se. 

With ail my heart, said the other. 

Chr. AVhere shall we begin? 

Hope. Where God began with us ; but do you begin, if you please. 

Che, I will sing you first this song : 

When saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither, 
And hear how these two pilgrims talk together ; 
Yea, let them learn of ihem in any wise 
Thus to keep ope the r drowsy, slumbecjng eyes. 
Saints' fellowship, it it be managed well, 
Keeps them aw.<ke, and ihat in bpite oi hell 

Then Christian began, and said, I will ask you a question: How came you to thi:.k 
at first of doing what you do now? 

Hope. Do you mean, how 1 came at first to look after the good of my soul? 

Chr. Yes, that is my meaning. 

Hope. I continued a great while in the delight of those thin<is which were seen and 
sold at our fair; things which 1 believe now would have, had I continued in them stiil, 
drowned me in peidition and destruction. 

Chr. What things were they? 

Hope. All the treasures and riches of the world. Also, I delighted much in rioting, 
reveling, drinking, swearing, lying, uncleanness, Sabbath-breaking, and what not, 
tiiat tended to destroy the soul. But I found, at last, by hearing and considering of 
things tJiat are divine, which indeed I heard of you, as also of beloved Faithful, tiuit 
was put to death for his faith and good living in Vanity Fair, that ''the end of these 
things is death;" and that ''for these things' sake, the wrath of God cometh upon the 
caildren of disobedience. (Eom. vi. 21-23; Eph. v. 6.) 

Chr. And did you presently fall under the power of this conviction? 

Hope. No; I was not willing presently to know the evil of sin, nor the damnation 
taat foliows upon the commission of it; but endeavored, Avhen my mind at first began 
to be shaken with the word, to shut mine eyes against the light thereof. 

Chr. Bat what was the cause of your carrying of it thus to the first workings of 
God's blessed spirit upon you? 

Hope. Tne causes were — 1. I was ignorant that this was the work of God upon me. 
1 never thought that by awakenings for sin God at first begins the conversion of a sin.ier. 
2. Sin was yet very sweet to my fiesh, and I was loath to leave it. 3. I could not tell 
how to part with mine old companions, their presence and actions were so desirable 
unto me. 4. The hours in which convictions were upon me were such troublesome 
and such heart-affrighting hours that 1 could not bear, no, not so much as the remem- 
brance of them upon my heart. 

Chr. Then, as it seems, sometimes you got rid of your trouble? 

Hope. Yes, verily; but it would come into my mind again, and then I should be as 
bad, nay, worse than I was before. 

Chr. AVhy, what was it that brought your sins to mind again ? 

Hope. Many things ; as, 

1. If I did but meet a good man in the streets; or, 

2. If I have heard any read in the Bibie; or, 

3. If my head did begin to ache; or, 

4. If I were told that some of my neighbors were sick ; or, 

5. If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead; or, 

6. If I thought of dying myself ; or, 

7. If I heard that sudden death happened to others; 

8. But especially when I thought of myself, that I must quickly come to judgmeiit. 
Chr. And could you at any time, with ease, get ofi' the guilt of sin, when by any 

of these ways it came upon you? 

Hope. No, not I; for then they got faster hold of my conscience; and then if I did 
but think of going back to sin (though my mind was turned against it) it would be 
double torment to me. 

Chr. And how did you do then? 

Hope. I thought 1 must endeavor to meud my life; or else, thought I, I am sure to 
be damned. 

Chr. And did jo\x endeavor to meud? 



* THE riLGRIM'S PROGRESS. 59 

Hope. Yes; and fled from not only my sins, but sinful company, too, and betook me 
to religious cl ties, as praying, reading, weeping for sin, speaking truth to my neigh- 
bors, etc. These tilings did l, witli many others, too much here to relate. 
Chr. And did you tliink yourself well then ? 

Hope. Yes, for .i while; but at the last my trouble came tumbling upon me again, 
and that over the neck of all my reformations. 

Chr. How came that about, since you were now reformed? 

Hope. Tnere were several things brought it upon me, especially such things as 
these: ''All our r ghteousness are as filthy rags;" "By the works of the law no man 
shall be just fied ; " " Wnen ye have done all these things, say. We are unprofitable. '* 
(IsL. Ixiv. 6; Gal. ii. 16; Luke'xvii. 10.)with many more such ike. Froiji whence Ibega-i 
to reason with myself t us: If all my rigir eousnes^are as filthy rags; if by the deeds « i 
the liTw no man can be justified; and if, when we have done all, we are yet unprofitable, 
than 'tis ut a folly to th niv of heaven by the law. I further thoucijht thus: If a m;'ti 
runs a hundred p .unds in o the shop-keeper's debt, and after that shall pay for all th: t 
be shall fetch; yet, if lis uid ebts s^and stiil in the book uncrossed, tne shop-keeper 
may sue him for it, and c r4 him into pri on until he shall pay the debt. 
Chr. Well, and how u.d you apply this to yourself? 

Hope. Wiiy, I thought thuswita myseli: I have by my sins run a great way into God's 
book, and that my now reforming will not pay off that score; therefore I should thin.c 
still, under all my present amenc.men^s, Bat how shad I be freed from that damnation 
that 1 brougiit myself in da. ger ot by ray former transgressions? 
Chr. a very good appLcac on; but p:ay go on. 

Hope Anoti.er ih.ng th ,t hath troubled me even since my late amendments is, thr*; 
if I look narrowly into the best of w.tat I do now 1 still see sin, new sin, mixing itsc.J 
with tue best of that i uo; so that now I am forced to c nclude, that, notwithstandir ; 
my former foni conceits of myself and c uties, 1 have committed sin enough in one uay 
to send me to hel , thoaga my former life had been faultless. 
Chr. And what di 1 .. ou then? 

Hope. Do! 1 could not teil what to do until T broke my mind to Faithful; for he 
and I were well acquaint a; and he to.d me that unless I could obtain the rightou - 
n ss of a man that never had sinned, neitaer inine own, nor all the righteousness of the 
world, could save me. 

Chr. And did you think he spake rue? 

Hope. Had he told me so when I was pleased and satisfied with mine own amend- 
ments 1 had called him fool for his ])a ns; but now, since I see mine own infirmity, and 
the sin which cleav s to my be>t performance, I have been forced to be of his opinion. 
Chr, But did you think, when at first he suggested it to you that there was ^uch a 
man to be found ot whom it might just.y be said, that he never committed sin? 

Hope. I must confess the Avords at first sounded -strangely; but, afters little more 
talk and comi)any with him, I h.ad full conviction about it. 

Chr. And did you ask him what man this was^ and how you must be justified by 
him? (Rom. iv. ; Col. i.; Heb. x.; II. Pet. i.) 

Hope. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, that dwelleth on the right hand 
of the Most H gii; and thus, said he, you must be justified by him, even by trusting 
to what he hath done by himself in the days of his flesh, and sufi'ered when he did hang 
on the tree. I asked him, further how that man's righteousness could be of that efii- 
cacy to justify another > efore God? And he told me he was the mighty God, and did 
what he did, and died the death also, not for himself, but for me, to whom his doings, 
and the worthiness of them, should be imputed, if I believed on him. 
Chr. And what did you do then? 

Hope. I made my objections against my believing for that I thought he was not 
willing to save me. 

Chr. And what said Faithful to you then? 

Hope. He bid me go to him and see. Then I said it was presumption. He said, 
No, for I was invited to come. (Matt. xi. 28.) Then he gave me a book of Jesus' indit- 
ing, to encourage me the more freely to come ; and he said, concerning that book, that 
every jot and tittle thereof stood firmer than heaven and earth. (Matt. xxiv. 35.) Then 
I asked him what I must do when I came? And he told me I must entreat upon my 
knees (Psalm xcv. 6; Jer. xxix. 12, 13; Dan. xi. 10), with all my heart and soul, the 
Father to reveal him to me. Then I asked him further, how I must make my supplica- 
tions to him? And he said, Go, and thou shalt find him upon a mercy-seat (Exod. xxv. 



60 THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. ^ 

22; Lev. xv. 2; Tleb. iv. 16), where he sits all the year long, to give pardon and for* 
iriveness to them that come. I told him that I knew not what to say when I came. 
And he bid me say to this effect: '' God be merciful to me a sinner." and, *' ^[ake me to 
i<now and believe in Jesus Christ; for I see thatif his righteousness had not been or I have 
not faith in his righteousness, I am utterly cast away. Lord I have heard that thou art 
a merciful God, and hast ordained that thy Son Jesus Christ should be the Savior of the 
world ; and, moreover, that thou art willing to bestow him upon such a poor sinner as 
lam (and I am a sinner indeed); Lord take therefore this opportunity and maguily 
thy grace in the salvation of my soul through thy Son Jesus Christ. Amen." 

Chr. And did you do as you were bidden? 

Hops. Yes, over, and over, and over. 

Chr. And did the Father reveal the Son to you? 

Hope. Not at tlie first, nor second, nor third, nor fourth, nor fiitii, no, nor at the 
sixth time neither. 

Chr. What did you do then ? 

Hope. What ! why I could not tell what to do. 

Chr. Had you not thoughts of leaving ofF praying? 

Hope. Yes, and a hundred times twice told. 

Chr. And what was the reason you did not? 

Hope. I believed that it was true which had been told me, to wit, thst without the 
righteousness of this Christ, all the world could not save me ; and therefore, thou<rht I 
with myself, If I leave otf, I die, and I can but die at the throne of grace. And withal 
this came into my mind, '^ If it tarry, wait for it, because it will surely come and will 
not tarry." (Hab. ii. 3.) So I continued praying until the Father showed me his Son. 

Chr. And how was he revealed unto you ? 

Hope. I did not see him with my bodily eyes, but with the eyes of mine under- 
standing (Eph. i. 18, 19); and thus it was : One day I was very sad, I think saddel* than 
at any one time in my life; and this sadness was through a fresh sight of the i^reatness 
and vileness of my sins. And as I was then looking for nothing but hell and the ever- 
lasting damnation of my soul, suddenly, as I thougiit, I saw the Lord Jesus look down 
from heaven upon me, and saying, ''Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou 
Shalt be saved." . (Acts xvi. 30, 3L) 

But I replied. Lord I am a great, a very great sinner; and he answered, " My grace 
is sufficient for thee." Then I said. But Lord, what is believing? And then I saw from 
that saying, " He that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that believeth on me 
shall never thirst" (John vi. 35); that believing and coming was all one; and that he 
that came, thi^t is, ran out in his heart and aftVctions after salva.tion by Christ, he in- 
deed believed in Christ. Then the tvater stood in mine eyes, and I asked further, But, 
Lord, may such a great sinner as I am be indeed accepted of thee, and be saved by 
thee? And I heard him say, ''And him that cometh to me I w^U in no wise cast out.*^ 
(John vi. 37.) Then I said, But how. Lord, must I consider of thee in my coming to 
thee, that my faith may be placed aright upon thee? Then he snid, '' Christ Jesus came 
iiito the world to sav • sinners; he is the end of the law for righteousness to every one 
that believes; he died for our sins, and rose again for our justification; he loved us, 
and washed us from our sins in his own blood ; he is Mediator betwixt God and us ; he 
ever liv.th to make intercession for us." (I. Tim. i. 15; Horn. x. 4; He >. vii. 24, 25.) 
From all which I gathered that I mu t look for righteousness in his person, and for sat- 
isfaction for my sins hy his blood ; that what he did in obedieme to his Father's law, 
and in submitting to the penalty thereof, was not for himself, but for hini that will ac- 
cept it for his salvation and be thankful. And now w:.s my heart full of joy, mine eyes 
full of tears, and mme afiections running over with love to the name, peop\e and ways 
of Jesus Cnrist. 

Chr. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul indeed; but tell me particularly 
what effect this had upon your spirit. 

PIOPE. It made me see that all the world, notw!thstanf"'in<T all the righeousness 
thereof, is in a state of condemnation; it made me see that God tiie Father, ihougn he 
be just, cm jusilf/ justify the coming sinner; it made me greatly asluimed of the vile- 
ness of my former li!e, and confounded me wivh the sen-c of mine own ignorance; for 
there never came a thought into my heart belore now tJiat showed me so the beauty of 
Jesus Christ; it made me love a holy Lie, and long to do something for the honor and 
glory or the name of the Lord Jesus; yea, I though.t that had I now a thcuii^ijtd g.dlous 
of blood ia my body I could spill it all for the sal^e of th^ Lord Jesus, 



THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. 61 

I saw then in my dream that Hopeful looked back and saw Ignorance, whom they 
had left behind, coming after. Look, said he to Christian, how far yonder youngster 
loitereth behind. 

Chr. Ay, ay, I see him ; he careth not for our company. 

Hope. But I trow it would not have hurt him had he kept pace with us hitherto. 

Chk. Tliat is true ; but Til warrant you he thinketh otherwise. 

Hope. That I think he doth ; but, however, let us tarry for him. (So they did.) 

Then Christian said to him, Come away, man; why do you stay so behind. 

Ignor. I take my pleasure in walking alone; even more a great deal than in com- 
pany, unless I like it the better. 

'I'hen said Christian to Hopeful (but softly), Did I not tell you he cared not for our 
oonipany? But, however, said he, come up, and let us talk away the time in this solita- 
ry place. Then, directing his speech to Ignorance, he said, Come, how do you do? 
ll(»\v stands it between God and your soul now? 

Jgnor. 'I ho})e well, for I am always lull of good motions that come into my mind 
to comfort me as 1 walk. 

Chr. What good motions? Pray tell us. 

Ignor. 'Why, I think of God and heaven. 

Chr. So do the devils and damned souls. 

Ignor. But I think of them, and desire them. 

Chr. So do many that are never like to come there. "The soul of the sluggard de- 
sireth and hath nothing." (Prov. xiii. 4.) 

Igxor. But I think of them and leave all for them. 

Chr. That I doubt ; for to leave all is a very hard matter; yea, a harder matter than 
many are aware of. But why, or for what, art thou persuaded that thou hast left all for 
God and heaven. 

Ignor. My heart tells me so. 

Chr. The wise man says, '^He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool." (Pro v. 
xxviii. 26.) 

Ignor. That is spoken of an evil heart; but mine is a good one. 

Chr. But how dost thou prove that? 

Ignor. It comforts me in hopes of heaven. 

Chr. lihat may be throu'^h its deceitfulness ; for a man's heart may minister comfort 
to him in the hopes of that thing for which he has yet no ground to hope. 

Ignor. But my heart and life agree together; and therefore my hope is well 
grounded. 

Chr. Who told thee that thy heart and life a^ree together? 

Ignor. My heart tells me so. 

Chr. "Ask my fellow if I be a thief." Thy heart tells thee so! Except the word of 
God beareth witness in this matter, other testimony is ot no value. 

Ignor. But is it not a good heart that iiath good thoughts? and is not that a good life 
that is according to God's commandments? 

Chr. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good thoughts, and that is a good life that 
is according to God's commanamenta ; but it is one thing indeed to have these, and an- 
other thing on.y to think so- 

IGNOR. Pray, what count you good thoughts, and a life according to God's com- 
mandments? 

Chr. There are good thouglits of divers kinds — some respecting ourselves, some 
God, some Christ, and some other things. 

Ignor. What be go d thoug.its respecting ourselves? 

Chr. Such as agree with the word of God. 

Ignor. When do our thoughts ol ourselves aL;ree with the word of God? 

Chr. When we pass the same judgment upon ourselves which the word passes. To 
explain myself: The word of God saith of persons in a natural condition, "Tnere is 
none righteous, there is none that doeth good." It saith also, that " every imagination 
ot the heart of man is only evil, and that continually." (Gen. vi. 5.) And aga.n, "The 
imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth." Now then, when we think thus of 
ourselves, having sense thereof, then are our thoughts good ones, because according to 
the word of God. 

Ignor. I will never believe that my heart is thus bad. 

Chr. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought concerning thyself in thy life. 
But let me go on. As the word passeth a judgment upon our hearts^ so it pa^seth a 



^2 THE pilgrim's PEOGRESS. 

judgment upon our ways; and when the thoughts of our hearts and ways agree with 
the juds^ment which the word giveth of both, then are both good, because agreeing tiiereto. 

Ignor. Make out your meaninir. 

Chr. Why, the word of God saith that man's ways are crooked ways (Psalms cxxv. 5), 
not good, but perverse ; it saith they are naturally out of the good way, that they h ve 
not known it. (Prov. ii. 15; Rom. iii. 17.) Now, when a man thus thinkeihof In's 
ways, I say, when he doth sensibly, and with heart-humiliation, thus think, then h-.th 
he good thoughts of his own w^ays, because his thoughts now agree with the judgment 
of the word of God. 

Ignor. What are good thoughts concerning God? 

Chr. Even as I have said concerning ourselves, when our thoughts of God doaccree 
with what the word saith of him; and that is, when we think of his being and attributes 
as the word hath taught; of which I cannot now discourse at larsre. But to speak or 
him with reference to us : then have we right thoughts of God when we think that he 
knows us better than we know ourselves, and can see sin in us when and where we can 
see noHC in oiirselves; when Ave think he knows our inmost thoughts, and that our 
heart, with all its depths, is always open unto his eyes; also when we think that all our 
righteousness stinks in his nostrils, and that therefore he cannot abide to 'see us siaud 
before him in an > confidence, even in all our best performances. 

Ignor. Do you think that I am such a fool as to think that God can see no furiher 
than I? or that I would come to God in the best of my performances? 

Chr. Why, how dost thou think in this matter? 

Ignor. Why, to be short, I think I must believe in Christ for justification. 

Chr. How I think thou must believe in Christ when tliou seest not thy need of him I 
Thou neither seest thy original nor actual infirmities; but hast such an opinion of thy- 
self, and of what thou dost, as plainly rendei-s thee to be one that did never see the nr- 
cessity of Christ's personal righteousness to justify thee before God. How then dust 
thou say I believe in Christ? 

Ignor. I believe well enouoh for all that. 

Chr. How dost thou believe ? 

Ignor. I believe that Christ died for sinners, and that I shall be justified before 
God from the curse through his gracious acceptance of my obedience to his laws. Or 
thus, Christ makes my duties, that are reiigious, acceptable to his Father by virtue of 
his merits; and so shall I be justified. 

Chr. Let me give an answer to this confession of thy faith: 

1. Thou believest with a fantastical faith ; for this faith is nowhere described in the 
word. 

2. Thou believest with a false faith; because it takes justification from the personal 
righteousness of Christ and appliest it to thy own. 

3. This faith maketh not Christ a justifier of thy person, but of thy actions; and of 
thy person for thy actions' sake, which is false. 

4. Therefore this faith is deceitful, even such as will leave thee under wrath in the 
day of God Almighty ; for true justifying faith puts the soul as sensible of its lost con- 
dition by the law upon flying for refuge unto Christ's righteousness (which righteous- 
ness of his is not an act of grace by which he maketh, for justificatio^n, thy obedience 
accepted with God, but his personal obedience to tlielaw, in doing and suftering for us 
what that required at our hands); this righteousness, I say, true faith accepteth; under 
the skirt of Avhich the soul being shrouded, and by it presented as spotless before 
God, it is accepted, and acquitted from condemnation. 

Ignor. What! would you have us trust to what Christ in his own person hath done 
without us? This conceit would loosen the reins of our lusts and tolerate us to live as 
we list; for what matter how w^e live if we may be justified by Christ's personal right- 
eousness from all when we believe it? 

Chr. Ignorance is thy name, and as thy name is, so art thou; even this thy ansv:er 
demonstrateth what I say. Ignorant thou art of what justifying righteousness is, and 
as ignorant how to secure .hy soul, through the faith of it, from the heavy wrath of 
God. Yea, thou also art iLrnorant of the true efi'ccts of saving faith in this righteousness 
of Christ which is to bow and win over the heart to God in Christ, to love his name, 
his word, ways, and people, and not as thou ignorantly imaginest. 

HOPK. Ask him if he ever had Christ revealed to him from heaven. 

Ignor. What! you are a man for revelations! I do believe that what both you and 
all the rest of you say about that matter is but the fruit of distracted brains. 



The pilgrim's progress. 63 

Hope. Why, man! Christ is so hid in God from the natural apprehension of the 
flesh that he cannot by any man be savingly known unless God the Father reveals 
him to him. 

Ignor. This is your faith but not mine ; yet mine, I doubt not, is as good as yours, 
though I have not in my head so many whimsies as you. 

Chr, Give me leave to put in a word. You ought not so slightly speak of this 
matter; for this I will boldly affirm, even as my good companion hath done, that no 
man can know Jesus Christ but by the revelation of the Father; yea, and faith too, 
by which the soul layeth hold upon Christ (if it be right), must be wrought by the ex- 
ceeding greatness of his mighty power (Matt. xi. 27; I. Cor. xii. 3; Eph. i. 17-19); the 
working of which fatth, I perceive, poor Ignorance, thou art ignorant of. Be awaken- 
ed then, see thine own wretchedness, and fly to the Lord Jesus ; and by his righteous- 
ness, which is the rightousness of God (for he himself is God), thou shalt be delivered 
from condemnation. 

Ignor. You go so fast I cannot keep pace with you ; do you go on before, I must 
stay awhile behind. Then they said : 

WeU, Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish be 
To slight good counsel, ten times given thee ? 
And if thou yet refuse it, thou shalt know, 
Ere long, the evil of thy doing so. 
Remember, man, in time ; stoop,- do not fear ; 
Good counsel, taken well, saves ; therefore heai*. 
But if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be 
The loser, Ignorance, I'll warrant thee. 



THE TENTH STAGE. 

Then Christian nddressed himself thus to his fellow^: 

Chr. AVell, come, my good Hopeful, I perceive that thou and I must walk by our- 
selves again. 

So I saw in my dream that they went on a pace before, and Ignorance he came hob- 
bling after. Then said Christian to his companion, It pities me much for this poor 
man, it certainly will go ill with him at last. 

Hope. Alas! there are abundance in our town in this condition, whole families — 
yea, whole streets, and that of pilgrims too ; and if there be so many in our parts how 
niany^, think you, must there be in the place where he was born? 

Chr. Indeed, the Word saith, *' He hath blinded their eyes, lest they should 
pee," etc. 

But now we are by ourselves, what do you think of such men ? Have they at no 
time, think you, convictions of sin, and so, consequently, fears that their state is dan- 
gerous? 

Hope. Nay, do you answer that question yourself, for you are the elder man. 

Chr. Then I say, sometimes (as I think j they may; but they, being naturally igno- 
rant, understand not that such convictions tend to their good ; and therefore they do 
desperately seek to stifle them, and presumptuously continue to flatter themselves in 
the way of their own hearts. 

Hope. I do believe, as you say, that fear tends much to men's good, and to make 
them right at their beginning to go on pilgrimage. 

Chr. With all doubt it doth, if it be right; for so says the Word, *'The fear of 
the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." (Job xxviii. 28 ; Psalm cxi. 10; Pro v. i. 7, ix. 10.) 

Hope. How will you describe right fear. 

Chr. True or right fear is discovered by three things : 

1. By its rise; it is caused by saving convictions for sin. 

2. It driveth the soul to lay fast hold of Christ for salvation. 

3. It begetteth and continueth in the soul a great reverence of God, his word and 
ways; keeping it tender, and making afraid to turn from them, to the right hand or 
to the left, or to anything that may dishonor God, break its peace, grieve the spirit, or 
cause the enemy to speak reproachfully. 

Hope. Well said ; I believe you have said the truth. Are we now almost got past 
the Enchanted Ground? 
Chk, W^hy ? Are you weary of this discourse ? 



64 THE PILGiaM"S PROGKESS. 

Hope. No, verily, but tlint I would know where we are. 

Chr. We liave not now above two miles further to go thereon. But let us return to 
our matter. Now, the ignorant know not that such convictions as tend to put them in 
fear are for their good, and therefore they seek to stifle them. 

Hope. How do they seek to stifle them ? 

Chr. 1. They think that those fears are wrought by the devil (though indeed they 
are wrought of God), and thinking so they resist them, as things that directly tend to 
tiieir overthrow. 2. They also think that these fears tend to the spoiling of their faith , 
when, alas for them, poor men that they are, they have none at all! and therefore they 
harden their hearts against them. 3. They presume they ought not to fear, and there- 
fore in despite of them wax presumptuously confident. 4. They see that those fears 
tend to take awsy from them their pitiful, old self-holiness, and therefore they resist 
them with all i^eir might. 

Hope. I know something of this myself; for before I knew myself it wa« so 
with me. 

Chr. Well, we will leave, at this time, our neighbor Ignorance by himself, and fall 
upon another profitable question. 

Hope. With all my heart; but you shall still begin. 

Chr. Well tlien, did you know, about ten years ago, one Temporary in your parts, 
who was a forward man in religion then? 

Hope. Know him ! yes ! he dwelt in Graceless, a town about two miles oflf of Hon- 
esty, and he dwelt next door to one Turnback. 

Chr. Eight; he dwelt under the same roof with him. Well, that man was much 
awakened once ; I believe that then he had some sight of his sins, and of the wages 
that were due thereto. 

Hope. I am of your mind, for, my house not being above three miles from him, ho 
would ofttimes come to me, and that with many tears. Truly, I pitied the man, and 
Avas not altogether without hope of him ; but one may see, it is not every one that cries, 
^'Lord! Lord!'^ 

Chr. He told me once that he was resolved to go on pilgrimage, as we go now; but 
nil of a sudden he grew acquainted with one Save-self, and "then he became a stranger 
to me. 

Hope. Now, since we are talking about him let us a little inquire into the reason of 
the sudden backsliding of him and such others. 

Chr. It may be very profitable ; but do you begin. 

Hope. Well, then, there are in my judgment four reas'^ns for it: 

1. Though the consciences of such men are awakened, yet their minds are not 
changed; therefore, when the power of guilt weareth away that which provoked them 
to be religious ceaseth ; wherefore they naturally turn to their old course again; even 
as we see the dog that is sick of what he hath eaten, so long as his sickness prevails, he 
vomits and casts up all; not that he doth this of a free mind (if we may say a dog has 
a mind), but because it troubleth his stomach. But now, when his sickness is over and 
so his stomach eased, his desires being not at all alienated from his vomit, he turns him 
about and licks up all; and so it is true which is written, ^'The dog is turned to his own 
vomit again. '^ (II. Pet. ii. 22.) Thus, I say, being hot for heaven, by virtue only of the 
sense and fear of the torments of hell; as their sense of hell and fear of damnation 
chills and cools, so their desires for heaven and salvation cool also. So then it comes 
to pass, that when their guilt and fear is gone their desires for heaven and happiness 
die, and they return to their course again. 

2. Another reason is, they have slavish fears that do overmaster them; I speak now 
of the fears that they have of men — "for the fear of man bringeth a snare. ^' (Prov. 
xxix. 25.) So then, though they seem to be hot for heaven so long as the flames of hell 
are about their eyes, yet, when' that terror is a little over, they betake themselves to 
second thoughts ;'namely, that it is good to be wise, and not to run (for they know not 
Avhat) the hazard of losing all, or at least of bringing themselves into unavoidable and 
unnecessary trouble; and so they fall in with the world again. 

3. The shame that attends religion lies also as a block in their way; they are proud and 
haughty, and religion in their eye is low and contemptible; therefore, when they have 
lost their sense of hell and the wrath to come, they return again to their former course. 

4. Guilt, and to meditate terror, s.re grievous to them; they like not to see their 
misery before they come into it; thougl^ perhaps the sight of it at first, if they loved 
that sight, might make them fly whither 'the righteous fly, and are safe; but because 




^.,^^^y^^..^,yy^^^^ ^^^ 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRKSfi. 65 

they do, as I hinted before, even shun the thoughts of guilt and terror, therefore, when 
once they are rid of their awakenings about the terrors and wrath of God, they harden 
their hearts gladly, and choose such ways as will harden them more and more. 

Chr. You are })retty near the business, for the bottom of all is, for want of a change 
in their mind and will. And therefore they are but like the felon that standeth before 
the judge; he quakes and trembles, and seems to repent most heartily; but the bottom 
of all is the fear of the halter; not that he hath any dest^tion of the oflfense, as it is 
evident; because, let but this man have his liberty and he will be a thief and so a 
rogue still ; whereas, if his mind was changed he would be otherwise. 

Hope. Now I have showed you the reason of their going back, do you show me the 
manner thereof. 

Chr. So I will willingly. 

1. They draw off their thoughts, all that they may, from the remembrance of God 
death, and judgment to come. 

2. Then they cast off by degrees private duties, as closet prayer, curbing their lusts, 
watching, sorrow for sin, and the like. 

3. Then they shun the company of lively and ^varm Christians. 

4. After that they grow cold to public duty, as hearing, reading, godly confidence 
aiid the like. 

5. Then they begin to pick holes, as we say, in the coats of some of the godly, and 
that devilishly, that they may have a seeming color to throw religion (for the sake of 
some infirmities they have discovered in them) behind their backs. 

6. Then they begin to adhere to and associate themselves with carnal, loose, and 
wanton men. 

7. Then they give way to carnal and wanton discourses in secret; and glad are they 
if they can see such things in any that are counted honest, that they may the more 
boldly do it through their example. 

8. After this they begin to play with little sins openly. 

9. And then, being hardened, they show themselves as they are. Thus, being 
launched again into the gulf of misery, unless a miracle of grace prevent it, they ever- 
lastingly perish in their own deceivings. 

Now" I saw in my dream by this time that the pilgrims were got over the Encb.anted 
Ground, and entering into the country of Beulah (Isa. Ixii. 4-12 ; Song ii. 10-12), whose air 
was very sweet and pleasant; the way lying directly through it, they solaced themselves 
tiiere for a season. Yea, here they heard continually the singing of birds, and saw every 
day the flowers appearing in the earth, and heard the voice of the turtle in the land. In 
this country the sun shineth night and day; wherefore this was beyond the valley of 
the Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach of Giant Despair; neither could they 
from this place so much as see Doubting Castle. Here they were within sight of the 
City they were going to; also here met them some of the inhabitants thereof, for in 
this land the shining ones commonly walked, because it was upon the borders of 
heaven. In this land also the contract between the bride and the bridegroom was re- 
newed; yea, here, *'as the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so doth their God rejoice 
over them." Here they had no want of coin and wine, for in this place they met with 
abundance of w'hat they had sought for in all their pilgrimage. Here they heard vo.ces 
from out of the cit^ — loud voices — saying, ''Say ye to the daughter of Zion, Behold, 
thy salvation cometh! Behold, his reward is with him! " Here all the inhabitants of 
the country called them, '' the holy people, the redeemed of the Lord, sought out," etc. 

Now, as they walked in this land, they had more rejoicing than in parts more remote 
from the kingdom to which they were bound ; and, drawing near to the city, they had 
yet a more perfect view thereof. It w^as builded of pearls and precious stones, also the 
streets thereof were paved with gold'; so that, by reason of the natural glory of the . 
city, and the reflection of the sunbeams upon it, Christian with desire fell sick. Hopeful 
also had a fit or two of the same disease. Wherefore here they lay by it a while, crying 
out because of their pangs, ''If you see my beloved, tell him that I am sick of love." 

But, being a little strengthened and better able to bear their sickness, they walked 
on their way, and came yet nearer and nearer, where were orchards, vineyards and 
gardens, and their gates opened into the highway. Now, as they came up to these 
places, behold the gardener stood in the way, to whom the pilgrims said, Whose goodly 
vineyards and gardens are these? He answ^ered. They are the King's, and are planted 
here'for his own delight, and also for the solace of pilgrims. So the gardener had them 
into the vineyards, and bid them refresh themselves with the dainties (Deut. xxiii. 24); 
3 



86 THE pilgrim's PROGPvESS. 

"be also showed them there the King's walks and arbors where he delighted to be ; and 
here they tarried and slept. 

Now, I beheld in my dream that they talked more in their sleep at this time than 
ever they did in all their journey; and, being in a muse thereabout, the gardener s<\\d 
even to me, AVherefore musest thou at the matter? It is the nature of the fruit of the 
grapes of these vineyards, "to go down so sweetly as to cause the lips of them that are 
asleep to speak." 

So I saw that when they awoke they addressed themseives to go up to the city. But, 
as I said, the reliection of the sun upon the city — for the city was pure gold (Rev. xxi. 
18; II. Cor. iii. 18j— was so extremely glorious, that they could not as yet with open 
face behold it, but throus^h an instrument made for that purpose. So I saw that, as 
they went on, there met them two men in raiment that shone like gold, also their faces 
shone as the light. 

These men asked the pilgrims whence they came; and they told them. They also 
asked them where they had lodged, what difficulties and dangers, what comforts and 
pleasures they had met with in the way; and they told them. Then said the men that 
met them, You have but two difficulties more to meet with, and then you are in the 
city. 

Christian then and his companion asked the men to go along with them ; so they told 
them that they would. But, said they, you must obtain it by your own laith. So I saw 
in my dream that they went on together till they came in sight of the gate. 

Now I further saw that betwixt them and the gate was a river; but there was no 
bridge to go over; the river was very deep. At the sight, therefore, of this river the 
pilgrims were much stunned; but the men that went with them said. You must go 
through or you cannot come at the gate. 

The pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no other way to the gate? To which 
they answered. Yes ; but there hath not any, save two, to wit,'Enoch and Elijah, been 
permitted to tread that path since the foundation of the world, nor shall uytil the last 
trumpet shall sound. The pilgrims then, especially Christian, began to despond in his 
mind, and looked this way and that ; but no way could be found by them by which they 
might escape the river. Then they asked the men if the waters were all of a depth? 
They said, No; yet they could not help them in that case ; for, said they, you shah find 
it deeper or shallower, as you believe in the King of the place. 

They then addressed themselves to the water, and, entering, Christian began to sink, 
and, crying out to his good friend Hopeftil, he said, I sink in deep waters ; the billows 
are over my head ; all his waves go over me. Selah. 

Then said the other. Be of good cheer, my brother, I feel the bottom, and it is good. 
Then said Christian, Ah! my friend, the sorrows of death have compassed me about, I 
shall not see the land that flows with milk and honey. And with that a great darknes-:^ 
and horror fell upon Christian, so that he could not see before him. Also here he is in 
a great measure lost his senses, so that he cotild neither remember nor orderly talk ei 
any of those sweet refreshments that he had met with in the way of his pilgrimnge. 
But all the words that he spoke still tended to discover that he had horror of mind, and 
heart-fears that he should die in that river, and never obtain entrance in at the gate. 
Here, also, as they that stood by perceived, he was much in the troublesome thoughts 
of the sins that he had committed, both since and before he began'to be a })iigrim. It 
was also observed that he was troubled with apparitions of hobgoblins ana evil spirits, 
for ever and anon he would intimate so much by words. 

Hopeful, thorefore, here had much ado to keep his brother's head above the water; 
yea, sometimes he would be quite gone down, and then, ere a while, he wouid rise up 
again half dead. Hopeful did also endeavor to comfort him, saying, Brother, I see the 
gate, and men standing by to receive us; but Christian would answer, 'Tis you, 'tis you 
they wait for, for you have been hopeful ever since I knew you. And so have you, said 
he to Christian. Ah, brother, said he, surely if I was right he would now arise to help 
me; but for my sins he has brought me into the snare, and hath left me. Then said 
Hopeful, My brother, you have quite forgot the text, where it is said cf the wicked, 
^' There are no bands in their death, but tht ir strength is firm ; they are not troubled as 
other men, neither are they plagued l;ke other men." These troubles and distresses 
that you go through with in these waters are no sign that God hath forsaken you; but 
are sent to try you, whether you will call to mind that which heretofore you have re- 
ceived of his goodness, and live upon him in your distresses. 
Then I saw in my dream that Cliristian was in a muse a while. To whom also Hope- 



.THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. 67 

ful added these words, Be of .Q:ood cheer, Jesus Christ maketh thee whole. And vTith 
that Christian brake out with a loud voice. Oh, I see him again ! and he tells me, 
" AVhen thou passest through the waters I will be with thee; and through the rivers 
they shall not overflow thee." (Isa. xliii. 2.) Then they both took courage, and the 
Of lemy was after that as still as a stone until they were gone over. Christian therefore 
presently found ground to stand upon, and so it followed that the rest of the river was 
but shallow^ ; Thus they got over. 

Now, upon the bank'of the river, on the other side, they saw two shining men again, 
who there waited for them. Wherefore being come out of the river, they saluted 
them, saying, We are ministering spirits sent forth to minister for those that shall be 
heirs of salvation. Thus they went along toward the gate. 

Now, you must note that the city stood upon a mighty hill ; but the pilgrims went 
up that hill with ease, because they had these two men to lead them up by the arms; 
they had likewise left their mortal garments behind them in the river; for though they 
went in with them they came out without them. They therefore went up here with 
much agility and speed, though the foundation upon which the city was framed was 
higher than the clouds; they therefore went up through the region of the air, sweetly 
talking as they went, being comforted, because they safely got over the river, and had 
such glorious companions to attend them. 

The talk that they had with the shining ones was about the glory of the place: who 
told them that the beauty and glory of it was inexpressible. There, said they, was 
^'Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, and the 
spirits of just men made perfect." (Heb. xii. 22-24.) You are going now, said they, 
to the paradise of God: wherein you shall see the tree of life, and eat of the never-fad- 
ing fruits thereof; and when you come there you shall have white robes given you, and 
your walk and talk shall be every day with the King, even all the days of eternity. (Rev. ii. 
7; iii. 4, 5; xxii. 5. ) There you shall not see again such things as you saw when you were in the 
lower region upon the earth ; to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction and death ; ^'for the form- 
er things are passed away." CIsa. Ixv. 16, 17.) You are going now to Abraham, to Isaac, 
and Jacob, and to the prophets, men that God hath taken away from the evil to come, 
and that are now '' resting upon their beds, each one walking in his righteousness." The 
men then asked. What must we do in the holy place? To whom it was answered. You 
must there receive the comfort of all your toil, and have joy for all your sorrow ; you 
must reap what you have sown, even the fruit of all your prayers, and tears, and suf- 
ferings for the King by the way. (Gal. vi. 7, 8.) In that place you must wear crowns 
of gold, and enjoy the perpetual sight and vision of the Holy One, for ^' there you shall 
see him as he is." (I. John iii. 2.) There also you shall serve him continually with 
praise, with shouting, and thanksgiving, whom you desired to serve in the world, 
though with much difficulty, because of the infirmiiy of your flesh. There your eyes 
shall be delighted with seeing, and your ears with hearing the pleasant voice of the 
Mighty One. There you shall enjoy your friends again that are gone thither before 
you; and there you shall with joy receive even everyone that follows into the holy 
place after you. There also you shall be clothed with crlory and majesty, and put into 
an equipage fit to ride out with the King of Glory. When he shall come with sound 
of trumpet in the clouds, as upon the wings of the wind, you shall come with him ; 
and when he shall sit upon the throne of judgment, you shall sit by him; yea, and 
when he shall pass sentence upon all the Avorkers of iniquity, let them be anirels or 
men, you also shall have a voice in that judgment, because they were his and your 
enemies. Also, when he shall again return to the city you shall go too, with 
sound of trumpet, and be ever with him. (I. Thess. iv. 13-17; Jude 14, 15; Pan. vii. 9, 
10; I. Cor. vi. 2, 3.) 

Now, while they were thus drawing toward the gate, behold, a company of the heavenly 
host came out to meet them ; to whom it was said by the other two shining ones. These 
are the men that have loved our Lord when they were in the worl l, and that have left 
all for his holy name ; and he hath sent us to fetch them, and we have brought them 
thus far on their desired journey, that they may go in and look their Eedeemer in the 
face with joy. Then the heavenly host gave a great shout, saying, "Blessed are they 
that are called to the marriage-supper of the Lamb." (llev. xix. 9.) There came also out 
at this time to meet them several of the King's trumpeters, clothed in white and shining 
raiment, who, with melodious noises and loud, made even the heavens to echo with their 
sound. These trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with ten thousand Welcomts 
from the world; and this they did with shouting and sound of trumpet. 



68 Tns PILGRIM'S PROGEESS.. 

This done they compassed them round on every side; some went before, some behind* 
and some on the right hand, some on the left (as it were to guard them through the up- 
per regions), continually sounding as they went, with melodious noise, in notes on high, 
so that the very sight was to them that could behold it as if heaven itself was come 
down to meet them. Thus, therefore, they walked on together; and, as they walked, 
ever and anon these trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, by mixing their music 
with looks and gestures, still signify to Christian and his brother how welcome they 
were into their company, and with what gladness they came to meet them. And now 
were these two men, as it were, in heaven, before they came at it, being swallowed up 
with the sight of angels, and with hearing their melodious notes. Here also they had the 
city itself in view, and they thought they heard all the bells therein to ring, to 'welcome 
them thereto. But, above all, the warm' and joyful thoughts that they had about their 
own dwelling there, with such company, and that for ever and ever ; oh ! by what 
tongue or pen can their glorious joy be expressed ! Thus they came up to the gate. 

Now, when they were come up to the gate, there was written over it in. letters of 
gold, 

« BLESSED AHE THEY THAT DO HIS COM- 
MANDMENTS, THAT THEY MAY HAVE RIGHT 
TO THE TPvEE OF LIFE, AND MAY ENTER IN 
THROUGH THE GATES INTO THE CITY. " 

—(Rev. xxii. 14.) 

Then I saw in my dream that the shining men bid them call at the gate; the which 
when they did, some from above looked over the gate; to wit, Enoch, Moses, and 
Elijah, etc., to whom it was said, These pilgrims are come from the city of Destruction 
for the love that they bear to the King of this place; and then the pilgrims gave iu 
unto each man his certificate, which they had received in the beginning, ; those, tbere- 
fore, were carried in unto the King, who, when he had read them, said. Where are the 
men? To whom it was answered, They are standing without the gate. The King then 
commanded to open the gate, '' that the righteous nation (said he) that keepeth the truth 
may enter in.^* (Isa. xxvi. 2.) 

Now I saw in my dream that these two men went into the gate ; and, lo ! as they en- 
tered they were transfigured ; and they had raiment put on that shone like gold. There 
were also that met them w^ith harps and crowns, and gave them to them ; the harps to 
praise withal, and the crowns in token of honor. Then I heard in my dream that ail 
the bells in the city rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them, 

"ENTER YE INTO THE JOY OF OUR LORD." 

I also heard the men themselves, that they sang with a loud A^oice, saying, 

" BLESSING, AND HONOR, AND GLORY, 

AND POWER BE UNTO HIM THAT 

SITTETH UPON THE THRONE, AND 

UNTO THE LAMB FOR EVER AND EVER.'' 

—(Rev. V. 13.) 

Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men I looked in after them, and be- 
hold the city shone like the sun; the streets also were paved A\ith gold, and in them 
walked many men with crowns on their heads, palms in their haads, and golden 
harps to sing praises withal. 

There were also of them that had wrings, and they answered one another without in- 
termission, saying, '' Holy, holy, holy is the Lord.'' And after that they shut up the 
gates, which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them. 

Now, while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my head to look back, and 
saw Ignorance come up the river-side ; but he soon got over, and that without half the 
difficulty which the other two men met with. For it happened that there was then in 
that place one Yaiu-hope^ aferrjrman, that with his boat helped him over j so he, as th^ 



I 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGF.ESS. 69 

oinerS 1 saw, did ascend the hill to come up to the gate, only he came olone, neither 
did any man meet him with the least encouragement. When he was come up to the 
gate he looked up at the writing that was above, and then began to knock, supposing 
that entrance should have been quickly administered to him ; but he was asked by the 
meu that looked over the top of the gate, Whence come you? and whaj; would you have? 
He answered, I have eat and drunk in the presence of the King, and he has taught in 
our streets. Then they asked him for his certificate, that they might go in and show it 
to the King; so he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found none. Then said they, 
Have you none? but the man answered never a word. So they told the King, but he 
would not come down to see him, but commanded the two shining ones, that conducted 
Christian and Hopeful to the city, to go out and take Ignorance and bind him hand 
and foot and have him away. Then they took him up and carried him through the air 
to the door that I saw in the side of the hill, and put him in there. Then I saw that 
there was a way to hell, even from the gates of heaven, as well as from the city of De- 
struction. So I awoke, and behold it was a dream I 



CONCLUSION. 

Now, reader, I have told my dream to thee^ 

See if thou can'st interpret it to me, 

Or to thyself, or neighbor ; but take heed 

Of misinterpreting; for that, instead 

Of doing good, will but thyself abuse; 

By misinterpreting, evil •ensues. 

Take heed also that thou be not extreme 

In playing with the outside of my dream; 

Kor let my figure or similitude 

Put thee into a laughter or a feud. 

Leave this for boys and fools; but as for thee. 

Do thou the substance of my matter see. 

Fut by the curtains, look within my veil, 

Turn up my metaphores, and do not fail. 

There, if thou seek'st them, such things thou'lt find 

As will be helpful to an honest mind. 

What of my dross thou findest there, be bold 
To throw away, but yet preserve the gold. 
What if my gold be wrapped up in ore? 
Kone throws away the apple for the core; 
But if thou shalt cast all away as vain, 
I know not but 'twill make me dream agaiA^ 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

FROM 

This World to That which is to Come. 

DELIVERED UNDER THE SIMULTUDE OF A DREAM. 



PART II. 

V\^HEREIN IS SET FOUTII THE MANNER OF THE SETTING OUT OF CHRISTIAN'S WIFE 

AND CHILDREN ; THEIR DANGEROUS JOURNEY ; AND SAFE 

ARRIVAL AT THE DESIRED COUNTRY. 

** I have used simultudes." (Hos. xii. 10.) 



COURTEOUS COMPANIONS: 

Some time since, to tell you my dream that I had of Christian the pilgrim, and of his 
dangerous journey toward the Celestial Country, was pleasant to me and profitable to 
you. I told you then, also, what I saw concerning his wife and children, and how un- 
willing they were to go with him on pilgrimage ; insomuch that he was forced to go on 
his progress Avithout them — for he durst not run the danger of that destruction wljich 
he feared would come by staying with them in the city of Destruction ; wherefore, as I 
then showed you, he left them and departed. 

■ Now, it hatii so happened — through the multiplicity of business — that 1 have been 
much hindered and kept back from my wonted travels into those parts whence he went, 
and so could not till now obtain an opportunity to make further inquiry after whom 
he left behind, that I might give you an account of them. But, having had some con- 
cerns that way of late, I went down again thitherward. Now, having taken up my 
lodging in a wood — about a mile off the place — as I slept I dreamed again. 

And, as I was in my dream, behold, an aged gentleman came by where I lay; and — 
because he was to go some part of the way that I was traveling — methought I got up 
and went with him. So, as we walked — and as travelers usually do — I was as if we 
fell into a discourse, and our talk happened to be about Christian and his travels; and 
thus I began with the old man : 

Sir, said I, what town is that there below, that lieth on the left hand of our way? 

Then said Mr. Sagacity (for that was his name). It is the city of Destruction ; a popu- 
lous place, but possessed with a very ill-conditiond and idle sort of people. 

I thought it was that city, quoth I ; I went once myself through that town, and 
therefore know that this report you give of it is true. 

Sag. Too true ! I wish I could speak truth in speaking better of them that dwell 
therein. 

Well, sir, quoth I, then I perceive you to be a well-meaning man, and so one that 
takes pleasure to hear and tell of that which is good. Pray, did you never hear what 
happened to a man, some time ago, of this town (whose name was Christian), that 
went on a pilgrimage up toward the higher regions ? 

Sag. Hear of him? Ay ! and I also heard of the molestations, troubles, wars, cap- 
tivities, cries, groans, frights and fears that he met with and had on his journey. Be- 
side, I must tell you, all our country rings of him; there are but few houses, that 
have heard of him and his doings, but have sought after and got the records of his 
pilgrimage. Yea, I think I may say that his hazardous journey has got many well- 
wishers to his ways; for though, when he was here, he was fool in every man's mouth, 
yet, now he is gone, he is highly commended of all. For it is said he lives bravely 
where he is; yea, many of them that are resolved never to jun his hazards yet have 
their mouths water at his gains. 

[701 



THE I^ILGKIM'S PROGRESS. 71 

They may, quoth I, well think — if they tliink anythinc^ that is true — that he liveth 
well where he is; for he now liveth at and in the Fountain of life, and lias what he has 
without labor and sorrow — for there is no grief mixed therewith. But pray what talk 
have the people about him ? 

Sag. Talk? The people talk strangely about him! Some say that he now walks in 
white (Rev. iii. 4; vi. 11); that he has a chain of gold about his neck; that he has a 
crown of gold, beset with pearls, upon his head. Others say that the.snining ones, that 
sometimes showed themselves to him in his journey, are become his companions, and 
that he is as familiar with them in the place where he is as here one neighbor is with 
another. (Zech. iii. 7.) Beside, it is confidently affirmed, concerning him, chat tlie 
King of the phice where he is has bestowed upon him already a very rich and pleasant 
dwelling at court, and that he every day eateth and drinketh and walketh and talketh 
with him, and receiveth of the smiles and favors of him that is judge of all there. 
Moreover, it is expected of some that his Prince, the lord of that country, will shortly 
come into these parts, and will know the reason — if they can give any — why his neigh- 
bors set so little by him, and had him so much in derision when they perceived that he 
would be'a pilgrim. (Jude 14, 15.) 

For they say that now he is so in the affections of his Prince, and that his sovereign 
is so much concerned with the indignities that were east upon Christian when he be- 
came a pilgrim, that he will look upon all as if done unto himself — and no marvel, for 
it was for the love that he had to his Prince that he ventured as he did. (Luke x. 16.) 

I dare say, quoth I; I am glad on't. I am glad for the poor man's sake, for that now 
he has rest from his labor (Rev. xiv. 13); and for that he now reapeth the benefit of his 
tears with joy (Psalm cxxvi. 5, 6), and for that he has got beyond the gun-shot of his 
enemies, and is out of the reach of them that hate him. I also am glad for that a rumor 
of these things is noised abroad in this country; who can tell but that it may work 
some good efi'ect on some that are left behind? But pray, sir — while it is fresh in my 
mind — do you hear anything of his wife and children? Poor hearts! I wonder in my 
mind what they do. 

Sag. Who? Christiana and her sons? They are like to do as well as Christian did 
himself; for, though they all played the fool at first, and would by no means be per- 
suaded by either the tears or entreaties of Christian, yet second thoughts have wrought 
wonderfully with them; so they have packed up and are also gone after him. 

Better and better, quoth I; but, what! wife and children and all? 

Sag. It is true. I can give jon an account of the matter, for I was upon the spot at 
the instant and was thoroughly acquainted with the whole afair. 

Then said I, A man, it seems, may report it for a truth. 

Sag. You need not fear to affirm it — I mean, that they are all gone on pilgrimage, 
both the good woman and her four boys. And being we are, as I perceive, going some 
considerable way together, I will give yon an account of the whole of the matter. 

This Christiana (for that was her name from the day that she with her children be- 
took themselves to a pilgrim's life), alter her husband was gone over the river and she 
could hear of him no more, her thoughts began to work in her mind. First, for that 
she had lost her husband, and for that the loving bond of that relation was utterly 
broken betwixt them. For you know, said he to me, nature can do no less but enter- 
tain the living with many a heavy cogitation in remembrance of the loss of loving rela- 
tions. This, therefore, of her husband did cost her m-.my a tear. But this was not all; 
for Christiana did also begin to cous.der with herself whether her unbecoming behavior 
toward her husband was not one cause that she saw him no more, and that in such sort 
he was taken away from her. And upon this came into her mind, by swarms, all her 
unkind, unnatural and ungodly carriage to her dear friend; which also clogged her 
conscience and did load her wilh guilt. She was, moreover, much broken with recall- 
ing to remembrance the restless groans, brinish tears and self-bemoanings of her 
husband, and how she did harden her heart against all his entreaties and loving per- 
suasions of her and her sons to go with him; yea, there was not anything that Christian 
either said to her or did before her, all the wiiile tiuit his burden did hang on his back, 
but it returned upon her like a flash of lightning and rent the caul of her heart in sun- 
der — especially that bitter outcry of his, *' What shall I do to be saved?'' did ring in her 
ears most dolefully. 

Then said she to her children. Sons, we are all undone! I have sinned away your 
father, and he is gone, lie would have liad us with him, but I would not go myself ; I 
also have hindered you of life. With that the boys fell into tears and cried out to go 



V'i THK pilgrim's PKOonfiSg. 

after their father. Oh, said Christiana, that it had been but our lot to go \vith him ! then 
Lad it fared well with us beyond what it is like to do now. For though I foriijerly fool- 
ishly imagined, concerning the troubles of your father, that they proceeded of a foolish 
fancy that he had — or for that he was overrun with melancholy humors — yet now it 
-will not out of my mind but that they sprang from another cause; to wit, for that tlie 
light of life was given him (John viii. 12); by the help of which, as I perceive, he has 
escaped the snares of death. Then they all wept again, and cried out, Oh, woe worth 
the day! 

The next night Christiana had a dream; and, behold, she saw as if a broad parchment 
was opened before her, in which were recorded the sum of her w^ays; and the crimes, as 
slie thought, looked very black upon her. Then she cried out aloud in her sleep, 
'' Lord, have mercy upon me, a sinner ! " (Luke xviii. 13.) And the little children 
heard her. 

After this she thought she saw two very ill-favored ones standing by her bedside, and 
saying, AVhat shall we do with this woman ? for she cries out for mercy waking and 
sleeping. If she be suffered to go on as she begins we shall lose her as we have lost her 
husband. AVherefore we must, by one way or other, seek to take her oft' from the 
thoughts of Avhat shall be hereafter, else all the world cannot help but she will become 
a pilgrim. 

Now, she awoke in a great sweat, also a trembling was upon her ; but after a while 
she fell to sleeping again. And then she thought she saw Christian, her husband, in a 
place of bliss among many immortals, with a harp in his hand, standing and playing 
upon it before One that sat on a throne, with a rainbow about his head. She saw, also, 
as if he bowed his head with his face to the paved work that Avas under his Prince's 
feet, saying, I heartily thank my Lord and Xing for bringing me into this place. Then 
shouted a company of them that stood round about, and harped with their harps; but 
no man living could tell what they said but Christian and his companions. 

Next morning, when she was up, had prayed to God and talked with her children a 
while, one knocked hard at the door; to whom she spake out, saying, If thou comest 
in God's name, come in. So he said, Amen, and opened the door and saluted her with. 
Peace be to this house. The which when he had done he said, Christiana, know^est 
thou wherefore I am come ? Then she blushed and trembled ; also her heart began to 
wax w^arm with desires to know from whence he came and what was his errand to her. 
So he said unto her, my name is Secret; I dwell with those that are on high. It is 
talked of where I dw^ell, as if thou hadst a desise to go thither; also there is a report 
that thou art aware of the evil thou hast formerly done to thy husband, in hardening of 
thy heart against his way and in keeping of these babes in their ignorance. Christiana, 
the merciful One has sent me to tell thee that he is a God ready to forgive, and that he 
taketh delight to multiply the pardon of ofiences. He also would have thee to know 
that he inviteth thee to come into his presence, to his table, and that he will feed thee 
with the fat of his house, and with the heritage of Jacob thy father. 

There is Christian, thy husband that was, with legions more his companions, ever be- 
holding that face that doth minister life to beholders; and they will all be glad when 
they shall hear the sound of thy feet step over thy Father's threshold. 

Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, and bowed her head to the ground. 
The visitor proceeded, and said, Christiana, here is also a letter for thee, wiiich I have 
brought from thy husband's king. So she took it and opened it: but it smelt after the 
manner of the best perfume (Song i. 3), also it was written in letters of gold. The con- 
tents of the letter were these : That the King would have her to do as did Christian, her 
husband ; for that was the way to come to his city, and to dwell in his presence with 
joy for ever. At this the good woman was quite overcome ; so she cried out to her 
visitor. Sir, will you carry me and my children with you, that we also may go and wor- 
ship the King ? , , . , ^ , 

Then said the visitor, Christiana, the bitter is before the sweet. Thou must through 
troubles — as did he that went before thee — enter this Celestial City. Wherefore I ad- 
vise thee to do as did Christian, thy husband; go to the Wicket-gate yonder over the 
plain, for that stands at the head of the way up which thou must go, and I wish thee all 
good speed. Also, I advise that thou put this letter in thy bosom; that thou read 
therein to thyself and to thy children, until you have got it by rote of heart; for it is 
one of the songs that thou must sing while thou art in this house of thy pilgiima^e 
(Psalm cxix. 54); also this thou must deliver in at the further gate. 

KoVf 1 fsaw in my dream that this old gentleman, as he told me the story, did himself 



THE pilgrim's PKOGIIESS. 73 

seem to be greatly affected therewith. He moreover proceeded, and said, So Christiana 
called her sons together, and began thus to address herself unto them : My sons, I have, 
as you may perceive, been of late under much exercise in my soul about the death of 
your father ; not for that I doubt at all of his happiness, for I am satisfied now that he 
is well. I have also been much affected with the thoughts of mine own estate and 
yours, which I verily believe is by nature miserable. My carriage, also, to your father 
in his distress is a great load to my conscience, for I hardened both mine own heart 
and yours against him, and refused to go with him on pilgrimage. 

The thoughts of these things would now kill me outright, but that for a dream which I 
had last night, and but that for the encouragement this stranger has given me this morning. 
Come, my children, let us pack up, and be gone to the gate that leads to the Celestial 
country, that we may see your father, and be with him and his companions in peace, 
according to the laws of the land. 

Tnen did her children burst out into tears, for joy that the heart of their mother was 
so inclined. So their visitor bid them farewell ; and they began to prepare to set out 
for their journey. 

But while they were thus about to be gone, two of the women, that were Christiana's 
neighbors, came up to her house, and knocked at her door. To whom she said as before, 
If you come in God's name, come in. At this the women were stunned, for this kind 
of language they used not to hear, or perceive to drop from t'he lips of Christiana. Yet 
they came in; but behold, they found the good woman preparing to be gone from her 
house. 
So they began, and said, Neighbor, pray what is your meaning by this? 
Christiana answered and said to the eldest of them, whose name was Mrs. Timorous, 
I am preparing for a journey. (This Timorous was daughter to him that met Christian 
upon the hill of Difficulty, and would have had him go back for fear of the lions.) 
Tim. For what journeV, I pray you? 

Chr. Even to go after my good husband ; and with that she fell a weeping. 
Tim. I hope not so, good neighbor; pi-ay, for your poor children s sake, do not so 
unwomanly cast away yourself. 

Chr. Nay, my children shall go with me; not one of them is willing to stay be- 
hind. 

Tim. I wonder in my very heart, what or who has brought you into this mind? 
Chr. Oh, neighbor ! knew you but as much as I do, I doubt not but that you would 
go along with me. 

Tim. Pr'ythee, what new knowledge hast thou got, that so worketh off thy mind 
from thy friends, and tempteth thee to go nobody knows where? 

Then Christiana replied, I have been sorely afflicted since my husband's departure 
from me; but especially since he went over the river. . But that which troubieth me 
most, is my churlish carriage to him, when he was tinder distress. Besides, I am 
now as he was then; nothing will serve me but going on pilgrimage. I was dreaming 
last night that I saw him. Oh, that my soul was with him! He dwelleth in the pres- 
ence of the King of the country; he sits and eats with him at his table; he is become a 
companion of immortals ; and has a house now given him to dwell in, to which the best 
palace on errth, if compared, seems to me but as a dunghill. (II. Cor. v. 1-4.) The 
Prince of the place has also sent for me, with promise of entertainment, if I shall 
cone to him; his messenger was here even now, and has brought me a letter, which in- 
V tes me to come. Ana with that she plucked out her letter; and read it, and said to 
tirni, What now will you say to this? 

Tor. Oh, the madness that has possessed thee and thy husband, to run vourselves 
iif on such difficulties! You have heard, I am sure, w^iat your husband did meet with, 
even in a manner at the first step that he took on his way, as our nei'crhbor Obstinate 
can yet testify, for he went along with him; yea, and Pliable too, until they, like wise 
men, were afraid to go any farther. We also heard, over and above, how he met with 
the lions, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, and many other things. Nor is the danger 
he met with at 'Vanity Fair to be forgotten by thee. For if he, though a man, was 
so hard put to it, what canst thou, being a poor woman, do?. Consider also, that these 
four sweet babes are thy children, thy flesh and thy bones. Wherefore, though thou 
shouldst be so rash as to cast away thyself; yet for the sake of the fruit of they b^dy, 
keep thou at home. 

But Christiana said unto her, tempt me not, my neighbor; I have now a price put 
into my hand to get gain, and I should be a fool of the greatest size if I should have no 



74 THE pilgrim's progress. 

heart to strike in with tlie opportunity. And for that you tell me of all these troubles 
that I am like to meet witli in the way, they are so far from being to me a discourage- 
ment that they show me I am in the right. **The bitter must come before the sweet/' 
and tliat will also make the sweet the sweeter. Wherefore you came not to my house 
in God's name, as I said, I pray you be gone, and not disquiet me further. 

Then Timorous reviled her, and said to her fellow, Come, neighbor Mercy, let us 
leave her in her own Ininds, since she scorns our counsel and company. But Mercy 
was at a stand, and could not so readily comply with her neighbor; and. that for a two- 
fold reason. 1. Her bowels yearned over Christiana. So she said within herself, If 
my neighbor will needs begone, I will go a little way with her, and help her. 2. Her 
bovv-els yearned over her own soul ; for what Christiana had said had taken some hold 
upon her mind. Wherefore she said within herself again, I will yet have more talk 
with this Christiana; and, if I find truth and life in what she shall say, myself with 
my heart shall also go with her. Wherefore, Mercy began thus to reply to her neigh- 
bor Timorous : 

Mer. Neighbor, I did indeed come with you to see Christiana this morning; and, 
since she is, as you see, a taking her last farewell of the country, I think to walk this 
sunshiny morning a little way with her, to help her on her way. But she told her not 
of her second reason, but kept it to nerself. 

Tim. Well, I see you have a mind to go a fooling too ; but take heed in time, and 
be wise ; while we are out of danger, we are out ; but, when we are in, we are in. 

So Mrs. Timorous returned to her house, and Christiana betook herself to her jour- 
ney. But, when Timorous was got home to her house, she sends for some of her neigh- 
bors, to wit, Mrs. Bat's-Eyes, Mrs, Inconsiderate, Mrs. Light-Mind, and Mrs. Know- 
Nothing. So, when they were come to her house, she falls to telling them the story 
Christiana, and of her intentional journey. And thus she began her tale: 

Tim. Neighbors, having had liitle to do this morning, I went to give Christiana a 
visit ; and, when I came at the door, I knocked, as you know n is our custom ; and she 
answered, If you come in God's name, come in. So I went in, thinking all was well ; 
but, when I came in, I found her preparing herself to depart the town, she and also her 
children. So I asked, what was her meaning by that? And she told me, in short, 
that she was now of a mind to go on a pilgrimage, as did her husband. She told me 
also of a dream that she had, and how the king of the country where her husband was 
iiad sent an inviting letter to come thither. 

Then said Mrs. Know-Nothing, And what, do you think she will go? 

Tim. Ay, go she will, whatever comes on't; and methinks I know it by this; for 
that which was my great argument to persuade her to stay at home (to wit, the troubles 
srie was likely to meet on the way), is one great argument with her to put her for- 
ward on her journey. For she told me in so many words, '^ The bitter goes before the 
sweet; yea, and for as much as it so doth, it makes the sweet the sweeter. 

Mrs. Bat's-Eyes. Oh, this blind and foolish woman! said she; and will she not 
take warning by her husband's afflictions? 'For my part, I see. if he were here again, 
he would rest himself content in a whole skin, and never run so many hazards for 
nothing. 

Mrs. Inconsiderate also replied, saying. Away with such fantastical fools from the 
town ; a good riddance, for my part, I say, of her; should she stay where she dwells, 
and retain this her mind, who could live quietly by her ? for she will either be dumpish 
or unneighborly, or talk of such matters as no wise body can abide ; wherefore, for my 
part, I shall never be sorry for her departure; let her go, and let better come in her 
room ; it was never a good world since these whimsical fools dwelt in it. 

Then Mrs. Li^ht-Mind added as followeth : Come, put this kind of talk away. I was 
yesterday at Madam Wanton's where we were as merry as the maids. For who do you 
think should be there but I and Mrs. Love-the-Flesh, and three or four more, with Mrs. 
Lechery, Mrs. Filth, and some others; so there we had music and dancing, and what 
else was meet to fill up the pleasure. And, I dare say, my lady herself is an admirable 
well-bred gentlewoman, and Mr. Lechery is as pretty a fellow. 



THE FIRST STAGE. 

By this time Christiana was got on her way, and Mercy went along with her; so as 
they went, her chileren being there also, Christiana began to discourse. And, Mercy, 



THE pilgrim's progkess. 75 

said Christiana, I take this as an unexpected favor, that thou shouldst set forth out of 
doors with me to accompany me a little in the way. 

Mer. Then said young Mercy (for she was but young), if I thought it would be to 
purpose to go with you I would never go near the town any more. 

Chr. Well, Mercy, said Christiana, cast in thy lot with me. I well know what 
will be the end of our pilgrimage; my husband is where he would not but be for all 
the gold in the Spanish mines. Nor shalt thou be rejected, though thou goest but 
upon my invitation. The king, who hath sent for me and my chiklren, is one that 
delighteth in mercy. Besides, if thou wilt, I will hire thee, and thou shalt go along 
with me as my servant. Yet we will have all things in common betwixt thee and me; 
only go along with me. 

Mer. But how shall I be ascertained that I also shall be entertained? Had I this 
hope from one that can tell I would make no stick at all, but would go, being helped 
by Him that can help, though the way was never so tedious. 

Chr. Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee what thou shalt do; go with me to the 
wicket-gate, and there I will further inquire for thee, and if there thou shalt not meet 
pay with encouragement, I will be content that thou return to thy place. I also will 
pay thee for the kindness which thou showest to me and my children in the accom- 
panying of us in our way as thou dost. 

Mer. Then I will go thither, and will take what shall follow ; and the Lord grant 
that my lot may there fall, even as the King of heaven shall have his heart upon me. 

Christiana then was glad at heart, not only that she had a companion; but also for 
that she had prevailed upon this poor maid to fall in love with her own salvation. So 
they went on together, and Mercy began to weep. Then said Christiana, Wherefore 
weepeth my sister so? 

Mer. Alas! said she, who can but lament that shall rightly consider what a state 
and condition my poor relatives are in, that yet remain in our sinful town? And that 
which makes my grief the more heavy is, because they have no instructor, nor any to 
tell them what is to come. 

Chr. Bowels become pilgrims ; and thou dost for thy friends, as my good Christian 
did for me when he left me ; he mourned for that 1 would not heed nor regard him ; 
but his Lord and ours did gather up his tears, and put them into his bottle ; and now 
both I and thou, and these my sweet babes, are reaping the fruit and benefit of them. 
I hope, Mercy, that these tears of thine will not be lost; for the truth hath said, that 
*'they that sow tears shall reap in joy;" and ^*he that goeth forth and weepeth, bear- 
ing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves 
with him." (Psalms cxxvi. 5, 6.) 
. Then said Mercy : 

Let the Most Blessed be my guide, 

If't be his blessed will, 
Unto his gate, into his fold, 

Up to his holy hill. 

And let him never suflfer me 

To swerve, or turn aside 
Froin his free-grace and holy ways, 

Whate'er shall me betide. 

And let him gather them of mine 

That I have left behind ; 
Lord, make them pray they may be thine, 

With all their heart and mind. 

Now, my old friend proceeded and said, But when Christiana came to the slough 
of Despond, she began to be at a stand; For, said she, this is the place in which my 
dear husband had like to have been smothered with mud. She perceived, also, that, 
notwithstanding the command of the kins: to make this place for pilgrims good, yet it 
was rather worse than formerly. So I asked if that was true? Yes, said the old gen- 
tleman, too true ; for many there be that pretend to be the king's laborers, and they 
say they are mending the king's hiirhways, and that bring dirt and dung instead of 
stones, and so mar instead of mending. Here Christiana, therefore, and her boys, 
did make a stand ; but, said Mercy, Come let us venture ; only let us be wary. Then 
they looked well to their steps, and made a shift to get staggeringly over. 

Yet Christiana had like to have been in, and that not once or twice. Now they had 



?8 •tiiB pilgrim's progress. 

no sooner* got over, but they thought they heard Avords that said unto them, "Blesserl 
is she that believeth, for there shall be a performance of what has been told her from 
the Lord/' (Luke i. 45.) 

Then they went on again; and said Mercy to Christiana, Had I as good ground to hope 
for a loving reception at the wicket-gate as you I think no slough of Despond would 
discourage me. 

Well, said the other, you know your sore, and I know mine; and, good friend, we 
shall all have enough evil before we come to our journey's end. For, can it be imag- 
ined that the people who design to attain such excellent glories as we do, and that are 
so envied that happiness as we are, but that we shall meet with what fears and snares, 
with what troubles and afflictions, they can possibly assault us with that hate us? 

And now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out my dream by myself. Wherefore, me- 
thought I saw Christiana and Mercy, and the boys go all of them up to the gate ; to 
which when they were come, they betook themselves to a short debate about how they 
must manage their calling at the gate, and what should be said unto him that did open to 
them ; so it was concluded since Christiana was the eldest, that she should knock for 
entrance, and that she should speak to him that did open, for the rest. So Christiana 
began to knock, and, as her i^oor husband did, she knocked and knocked again. But, 
instead of any that answered, they all thought that they heard as if a dog came barking 
upon them ; a dog, and a great one too ; and this made the women and children afraid. 
Nor durst they for a while to knock any more, for fear tl\e mastift'should fly upon them. 
Now, therefore, they were greatly tumbled up and down in their minds, and knew what 
to do; knock they durst not, for fear of the dog ; go back, they durst not, for fear the 
keeper of that gate ^ould espy them as they so went, and should be offended with them; 
at last they thought of knocking again, and knocked more vehemently than they did 
at first. Then said the keeper of the^gate, Who is there? So the dog l6it off to bark, 
and he opened unto them. 

Then Christiana made low obeisance, and said, Let not our Lord be offended with his 
handmaidens, for that we have knocked at his princely gate. Then said the keeper, 
Whence come ye? and what is it that you would have ? 

Christiana answered, We are come from whence Christian did come, and upon the 
same errand as he, to wit, to be, if it shall please you, graciously admitted, by this gate, 
into the way that leads unto the Celestial City. And I answer my Lord, in the next 
place, that I am Christiana, once the wife of Christian, than now is gotten above. 

With that the keeper of the gate did marvel, saying, What, is she now become a pil- 
grim, that but a while ago abhorred that life ? Then she bowed her head, and said, 
Yea; and so are these my sweet babes also. 

Then he took her by the hand, and led her in, and said also, "Suffer little children 
to oome unto me; '' and with that he shut up the gate. This done, he called to a trump- 
eter that was above, over the gate, to entertain Christiana with shouting, and sound of 
trumpet for joy. So he obeyed, and sounded, and filled the air with his melodious 
notes. 

Now, all this while poor Mercy did stand without, trembling and crying, for fear that 
she was rejected. But when Christiana had got admittance for herself and her boys, 
then she began to make intercession for Mercy. 

And she said, My Lord, I have a companion of mine that stands yet without, that is 
come hither upon the same account as myself ; one that is much dejected in her mind, for 
that she comes, as she things, without sending for; whereas I was sent for by my hus- 
band's King to come. 

Now Mercy began to be very impatient, and each minute was as long to her as an 
hour; wherefore she prevented Christiana from a fuller interceding for her by knock- 
ing at the gate herself. And she knocked then so loud tliat she made Christiana to 
start. Then said the keeper of the gate. Who is there ? And Christiana said, It is my 
friend. 

So he opened the gate and looked out, but Mercy was fallen doAvn without in u 
fiwoon, for siie fainted and was afra.d that no gate should be opened to her; 

Then he took her by the hand, and said, Damsel, I bid thee arise. 

Oh, sir, said she, I am faint; there is scarce life left in me. But he answered that one 
once sai , ^' When my soul fainted within me I remembered the Lord, and my prayer 
came unto thee, into thy holy temple." (Jonah ii. 7.) Fear not, but stand upon thy 
feet, and tell me wherefore thou art come. 

Mer. I am come for that unto whicli I was never invited, as ray friend Christiana 



*fHE PlLGR}.^r's PKOGIiESS. 77 

was. Hers was from the King and mine was but from her. Wherefore I fear I pre- 
sume. 

Good. Did slie desire thee to come with her to tiiis phice? 

Mek. Yes; and, as my Lord sees, I am come ; and if there is any grace and forgive- 
ness of sins to spare, I beseech that thy poor handmaid may be a partaker thereof. 

Then he took her again by the hand and led her gently in, and said, I pray for all 
them that believe on me, by what means soever they come unto me. Then said he to 
those that stood by. Fetch something, and give it to Mercy to smell on, thereby to stay 
her faintings. So they fetched her a bundle of myrrh (Song i. 13), and a while after 
she was revived. 

And now were Christiana and her boys, and Mercy, received of the Loru at the head 
of the way, and spoke kindly unto by him. Then said they yet further unto him. We 
are sorry for onr sins, and beg of our Lord his j)ardon, and further information what 
wt* must do. 

I grant pardon, said he, by word and deed; ]by word, in the promise of forgiveness; 
by deed, in the way I obtained it. Take the nrst from my lips with a kiss, and the 
other as it shall be revealed. (John xx. 20.) 

Now, I saw in my dream that he spake many good words unto them, whereby they 
were greatly gladdened. He also had them up to the top of the gate, and showed them by 
what deed they were saved ; and told them withal, thatthat sight they would have again 
as they went along in the way, to their comfort. 

So he left them awhile in a summer parlor below, where they entered into talk by 
themselves; and thus Christiana began: Oh, Lord, how glad am I that we arc got in 
hither! 

Mer. So you well may; but I of all have cause to leap for joy. 

Chr. I thought one time, as I stood at the gate (because I had knocked and none 
did answer) that all our labor had been lost, especially when that ugly cur made sucn 
a heavy barking against us. 

Mer. But my worst fear was, after I saw that yon was t^.ken into his favor, and that 
I was left behind. Now, thought I, it is fulfilled which is written, "Two women shall 
be grinding together; the one shall be taken and the other left." (Matt, xxiv, 41.) I had 
much ado to forbear crying out, L^ndone ! And afraid I was to knock any more; but, 
when I looked up to what was written over the gate, I took conrrtge. I also thoualit 
that I must either knock again or die ; so I knocked, but I cannot tell how; for my spirit 
now struggled between life and death. 

Chr. Can you not tell how you knocked ? I am sure your knocks were so earnest 
that the very sound of ihem made me start. I thought I never heard such knocking in 
all my life ; I thought you would a come in by a violent hand, or a took tbe kingdom 
by storm. (Matt. xi. 12.) 

Mer. Alas! to be in my case, who that so was could but have done so . You sp,\y 
that the door was shut upon me, and that there Avas a most cruel dog thereabout. W^hn, 
I say, that was so faint-hearted as I, w^ould not have knocked with ail their might? Buc 
pray, what said my Lord to my rudeness? Was he not angry with me ? 

Chr. WKen he heard your lumbering noise, he gave a wonderful innocent smile; 1 
believe what you did pleased him w^ell, for he showed no sign to the contrary. But 1 
marvel in my heart why he keeps such a dog; had I known that afore I should net 
have had heart enough to have ventured myself in this manner. But now w^e are iu, 
we are in, and I am glad with all my heart. 

Mer. I will ask, if you please, next time he comes down, why he keeps such a filthy 
cur in his yard ; I hope he will not take it amiss. 

Do so, said the children, and persuade him to hang him, for we are afraid he will bite 
us when we go hence. 

So at last he came down to them again, and Mercy fell to the ground on her face be- 
fore him and worshiped, and said, " Let my Lord accept the sacrifice of praise which I 
now offer unto him with the calves of my lips." 

So he said unto her, Peace be to thee ; stand up. But she continued on her face, 
and said, ''Righteous art thou, O Lord, when I plead with thee; yet let me talk with 
thee of thy judgments" (Jer. xii. 1, 2): wherefore dost thou keep so cruel a dog in thv 
yard, at the sight of which such women and childi'en as we are ready to fly from thV 
gate for fear? 

He answered and said that dog has another owner; he also is kept close in another 
man's ground, only my pilgrims hear his barking; he belongs to the castle which you 



78 l-HE I^ILGHIM^S PROGRESS. 

see there at a distance, but can come up to the walls of this place. He has frighted 
many an honest pilgrim from worse to better by the great voice of his roaring. Indeed, 
he that owneth him doth not keep liim out of any good will lo me or mhie, but with in- 
tent to keep the pilgrims from coming to me, and that they may be afraid to come and 
knock at this gate for entrance. Sometimes also he has broken out, and has worried 
some that I loved; but I take all at present patiently. I also give my pilgrims timely 
help, so that they are not delivered to his power to do with them what his doggish na- 
ture would prompt him to. But what! my purchased one, I trow, hadst thou known 
never so much beforehand, thou wouldest not have been afraid of a dog. The beggars 
that go from door to door, will, rather than lose a supposed alms, run the hazard of the 
brawlmg, barkin<r, and biting too, of a dog; and shall a dog, a dog in another man's 
yard, a dog whose barking I turn to the profit of pilgrims, keep any from coming to me/ 
i deliver them from the lions, and *' my darling from the power of the dog.'* (Psalms 
xxil 20, 21.) 

Then said Mercy, I confess my ignorance; I spake what I understood not; I ac- 
knowledge that thou dost all things well. 

Chr. Then Christiana began to talk of their journey and to inquire after the way. 
So he fed them, and washed their feet, and set them in the way of his steps, according 
as he had dealt with her husband before. 



THE SECOND STAGE. 

So, I saw in my dream, that they walked on their way; and had the weather very 
comfortable to them. 
Then Christiana began to sing, saying : 

Bl':'ss'd be the day that I began 

A pilgrim for to be ; 
And blessed also be that mail 

That thereto moved me. 

»Tis true, 'twas long ere I bege^o. 

To seek to live f (jrever ; 
Bui now I run fast as 1 can ; 
*J^ better late tnan never. 

Our tears to joy, our fears to faitb, 

Are turned, as we see; 
Thus our beginning (as one saith) 

bhows what our end will be. 

Now, there was on the other side of the wall that fenced in the way up which Christi- 
ana and her companions were to go, a garden, and taat garden belonged to him whose 
was that barking dog, of whom mention was made before. And some of the fruit trees 
that grew in that garden shot tlieir branches over the wall ; and being mellow, they 
that found them did gather them up and eat of them to tneir hurt. So Christiana's 
boys (as boys are apt to do), beinc!: pleased with the trees, and wiih the fruit that did 
liaiig thereon, did pluck them, and began to eat Their mother did also chide them for 
so doing, but still the boys went on. 

Well (said she), my sons, you transgress, for that fruit is none of ours; but she did 
not know that it belonged to the enemy. 1^11 warrant you if she had t,he would have 
been ready to die for fear. But that passed and they went on their way. Now, by 
that they were gone about two bow-shots from the^place that led them into the way, they 
spied two very ill-favored ones coming down apace to meet them. With xhat, Christi- 
ana and Mercy, her friend, covered themselves with their veils, and so kept on their 
journey; the children also went on before; so that at last they met together. Then 
they that came down to meet them came just up to the women as if they would embrace 
them ; but Christiana said, Stand back, or go peaceably as you should. Yet these two, 
as men that are deaf, regarded not Christiana's words, but began to lay hands upon them ; 
at that Christiana waxing very wroth, spurned at them with her feet. ^ Mercy also, as 
well as she could, did what she could to shift them. Christiana again said to them, 
Stand back, and be gone, for we have no money to lose, being pilgrims, as you see, and 
such, too, as live upon the charity of our friends. 



THE PILGRIM S PROGRESS. 



79 



Then said one of the two men, "We make no assault on you for money, but are come 
out to teil you that if you will but grant one small request we shall ask, we will make 
women of you forever. 

Now Christiana, imagining what they should mean, made answer again, We will 
neither hear, nor re.2:ard, nor yield to what you shall 5isk. We are in haste, and cannot 
stay ; our business is a business of life and deatii. So again she and her companion 
made a fresh essay to go past them; but they letted them in their way. 

Aud they said, We intend no hurt to your lives, His another thing we would have. 

Ay, quoth Christiana, you would have us body and soul, fori know 'tis forthatyou are 
come ; but we will die rather upon the spot than to sutler ourselves to be brought into 
such snares as shall hazard our well being hereafter. And with that they both shrieked 
out and cried, Murder! murder! and so put themselves under those laws that are pro- 
vided for the protection of women. (Deut. xxii. 25-27.) But the men still made their 
approach upon them with design to prevail against them. They therefore cried out 
again. 

Now, they being, as I said, not far from the gate in at which they came, their voice 
was heard from whence they were, thither ; wherefore some of the house came out, and 
knowing that it was Christiana's tongue, tiiey made haste to her relief. But by that 
they were got within sight of them tiie women were in a very great scuffle •, the child- 
ren also stood crying by. Then did he that came in for their relief call out to the ruf- 
fians, saying. What is that thing you do? Would you make my Lord's people to trans- 
gress? He also attempted to take them? but they did make their escape over the wall 
into the garden of the man to whom the great dog belonged ; so the dog became their 
protector. This Reliever then came up to the women, and asked them how they did. 
So they answered, We thank thy Prince pretty well, only we have been somewhat 
{.itrighted; we thank thee also, that thou camest in to our help, otherwise we had been 
^v-ercome. 

So, after a few more words, this Reliever said as followeth : I marveled much when 
you were entertained at the gate above, being ye knew that ye were but weak women, 
ihat you petitioned not the Lord for a conductor ; then might you have avdided these 
troubles and dangers ; for he would have granted you one. 

Chr. Alas ! said Christiana, we were so t iken with our present blessing that dangers 
to come were forgotten by us; beside, who could have thought that so near the king's 
palace there could have lurked such naughty ones ? Indeecft it had been well for us, 
nad we asked our Lord for one ; but, since our Lord knew it would be for our profit T. 
wonder he sent not one along with us. 

Rel. It is not always necessary to grant things not asked for, lest by so doing they 
become of little esteem; but when the want of a thing is felt it then comes under, in 
ihe eyes of him that feels it, that estimate that properly is its due, and so consequently 
-vill be thereafter used. Had my Lord granted you a conductor, you would not either 
-io have bewailed that oversight of yours in not asking for one, as now you have occa- 
iiriii to do. So all things work for good and tend to make you more wary. 

i^HR* Shall we go back again to my Lord and confess our folly and ask one ? 

Hel. Your confession of your folly I will present him with; to go back again you 
need not, for in all places where you shall come you shall find no want at all; for in 
every one of my Lord's lodgings, which he has prepared for the reception of his pil- 
grims, there is sufiicient to furnish them against all attempts whatsoever. But, as I 
said, "He will be inquired of by them to do it for them." (Ezek. xxxvi. 37.) And 
'tis a poor thing that is not worth asking for. 

When he had thus said, he went back to his place, and the pilgrims went on their 
way. 

Then said Mercy, What a sudden blank is here ! I made account that we had been 
past all dangers, and that we should never see sorrow more. 

Thy innocency, my sistei*, said Christiana to Mercy, may excuse thee much; but as 
for me my fault is so much the greater, for that I saw this danger before 1 came out of 
the doors, and yet did not provide for it when provision might have been had. I am 
much to be blamed. 

Then said Mercy, How knew yon this before you came from home ? Pray open to me 
this riddle. 

Chr, Why, I will tell you : Before I set foot out of doors, one night, as I lay in my 
bed, I had a dream about this; for methought I saw two men — as like these as ever any 
in the v\ orid could look — stand at my bed's feet, plotting how they might prevent my 



80 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

salvation. I will tell yoll tlieir v^ery words : they said ('twas when I was in ray troubles), 
What shall we do with this woman ? for she cries out, waking and sleeping, for forgive- 
ness; if she be suffered to go on as she begins we shall lose her as we have lost her hus- 
band. This, you know, might have made me take heed, and have provided when 
provision might have been had. 

Well, said Mercy, as by this neglect we have an occasion ministered unto us to behold 
our own imperfections, so our Lord has taken occasion thereby to make manifest the 
riches of his grace ; for he, as we see, has followed us with unasked kindnesss, and has 
delivered us from their hands that were stronger than we, of his mer-e good pleasure. 

Thus, now, when they had talked away a little more time, they drew near to a house 
that stood in the way — which house was built for the relief of pilgrims, as you will find 
more fully related in the First Part of these records of the Pilgrim's Progress. So they 
drew on toward the house (the house of the Interpreter); and when they came to the 
door they heard a great talk in the house. Then they gave ear and heard, as they 
thought, Christiana mentioned by name — fpr you must know that there went along, 
even before her, a talk of her and her children's going on pilgrimage. And this was 
the most pleasing to them because they had heard that she was Christian's wife; that 
woman who was, some time ago, so unwilling to hear of going on pilgrimage. Thus, 
tiierefore, they stood still and heard the good people within commending her who 
they little thought stood at the door. At last Christiana knocked, as she had done at 
tlie gate before. Now, when she had knocked, there came to the door a young damsel 
and opened the door and looked, and, behold, two women were there. 

Then said the damsel to them. With whom would you speak in this place? 

Christ, ana answered. We understand that this is a privileged place for those that are 
become pilgrims, and we now at this door are such ; wherefore we pray that we may be 
partakers of that for which we at this time are come ; for the day, as thou seest, is very 
far spent and we are loath to-night to go any farther. 

Dam. Pray what may I call your name, that I may tell it to nvv lord within ? 

Chr. My name is Christiana; t was the wife of that pilgrim that some years ago d'd 
li-nvel this way, and these be his four children. This maiden, also, is my companion, 
iind is going on i^ilgrimage too. 

Then Innocent ran in (for that was her name), and said to those within, Can you 
tiiink who is at the door? ^here is Christiana and her children and her companion, all 
waiting for entertainment^'liere ! Then they leaped for joy and went and told their 
^siaster. So he came to the door; and, looking upon her, he said, Art thou that Christ- 
i::ua whom Christian, the good man, left behind him when he betook himself to a pil- 
grim s life ? 

Chr. I am that woman that was so hard-hearted as to slight my husband's troubles, 
and that left him to go on his journey alone, and these are his four children; but now I 
Tuso am come, for I am convinced that no way is right but this. 

Inter. Then is fulfilled that which is written of the man that said to his son, " Go, 
work to-dav in my vineyard : and he said to his father, I will not ; but afterward re- 
pented and went." (Matt. xxi. 28, 29.) 

Then said Christiana, So be it I Amen. God make it a true saying upon me, and 
grant that I may be found at the last *' of him in peace, without spot and blameless ! '* 

Inter. But why standest thou thus at the door? Come in, thou daughter of Abra- 
ham I we were talking of thee but now, for tidings have come to us before how thou art 
become a pilgrim. Come, children, come in ! come, maiden, come in ! So he had 
them all into the house. 

So, when they were Avithin, they were bidden to sit down and rest them ; the which 
when they had done, those that attended upon the pilgrims in the house came into the 
loom to see them. And one smiled and another smiled, and they all smiled for joy that 
Christiana was become a pilgrim. They also looked upon the boys; they stroked them 
over their faces with the hand,' in token of their kind reception of them. They also 
carried it lovingly to Mercy, and bid them all welcome into their Master's house. 

After a while — because supper was not ready — the Interpreter took them into his Sig- 
nificant Rooms and showed them what Christian, Christiana's husband, had seen some 
time before. Here, therefore, they saw the man in the cage, the man and his dream, 
the man that cut his way through his enemies and the picture of the biggest of them ail 
— together with the rest of those things that were then so profitable to Christian. 

This done — and after those things had been somewhat digested by Christiana and her 
company — the Interpreter takes ttein apart again, and has them iirst into a room wher© 



THE pilgrim's PRORESS. 81 

was a man that could look no way but downward, with a muck-rake in his hand. There 
stood, also, one over his head with a celestial crown in his hand, and proffered him 
that crown for his muck-rake; but the man did neither look up nor regard, but raked 
to himself the straws, the small sticks and the dust of the floor. 

Then said Christiana, I persuade myself that I know, somewhat, the meaning of this; 
for this is a figure of a man of this world, is it not, good sir? 

Thou hast said right, said he, and his muck-rake doth show his carnal mind. And 
whereas thou seest him rather give heed to rake up straws and sticks and the dust of 
the floor, than to do what he says that calls to him from above, with the celestial crown 
in his hand, it is to show that heaven is but a fable to some, and that things here are 
counted the only things substantial. Now, whereas, it w^as also showed thee that the 
man could look no way but downward, it is to let thee know that earthly things — when 
they are with power upon men's minds — quite carry their hearts away from God. 

Then said Christiana, Oh, deliver me from this muck-rake! 

Tiiat prayer said the Interpreter, has lain by till it is almost rusty; ^' Give me not 
riches," is scarce the prayer of one in ten thousand. (Prov. xxx» 8.) Straws and sticks 
and dust, with most, are the great things now looked after. 

With that Christiana and Mercy wept, and said, It is, alas, too true! 

When the Interpreter had showed them this, he had them into the very best room in 
the house (a very brave room it was); so he bid them look around about, and see if they 
could find anything profitable there. Then they looked around and around, for there 
was nothing to be seen but a very great spider on the wall, and that they overlooked. 

Then said Mercy, Sir, I see nothing; but Christiana held her peace. 

But, said the Interpreter, look again. She therefore looked again, and said. Here is 
not anything but an ugly spider, who hangs by her hands upon the wall. Then said he. 
Is there but one spider in all this spacious room? Then the water stood in Christiana's 
eyes — for she was a woman of quick apprehension — and she said,. Yea, Lord, there is 
luore here than one; yea, and spiders whose venom is far more destructive than that 
w^hich is in her. The Interpreter then looked pleasantly on her and said, Thou hast 
said the truth. This made Mercy to blush and the boys to cover their faces — for they 
all began now to understand the riddle. 

Then said the Interpreter again, ''The spider taketh hold with her hands (as you 
see), and is in kings' palaces." And wherefore is this recorded but to show you that, 
how full of the venom of sin soever you be, yet you may, by the hand of faith, lay hold 
of — and dwell in — the best room that belongs to the King's house above. 

I thought, said Christiana, of something of this but I could not imagine it at ail. I 
thought that we were like spiders and that we looked like ugly creatures in what fine 
rooms soever we were, but that by this spider — that venomous and ill-favored creature 
— we were to learn how to £^ct faith, that came not into my thoughts ; and yet she had 
taken hold with her hands and, as I see, dwelleth in the best room in the house. God 
has made nothing in vain. 

Then they seemed all to be glad — but the water stood in their eyes; yet they looked 
one upon another and also bowed before the Interpreter. 

He had them into another room, where was a hen and chickens, and bid them observe 
a v.hile. So one of the chickens went to the trough to drink, and every time she drank 
she lifted up her head and eyes toward heaven. See, said he, what this little chick 
dotii, and learn of her to acknowledge whence your mercies come by receiving them 
with looking up. Yet again, said he, observe and look. So they gave heed, and per- 
ceived that the hen did walk in a fourfold method toward her chickens. 1. She had a 
common call, and that she hath all the day long. 2. She had a special call, and that 
she had but sometimes. 3. She had a brooding note ; and, 4, she had an outcry. (Matt, 
xxiii. 37.) 

Now, said he, compare this hen to your King, and these chickens to his obedient 
ones. For, answerable to her, himself has his methods which he walketh in toward his 
people. By this common call he gives nothing ; by his special call he always has some- 
thing to give; he has also a brooding voice for them that are under his wing, and he 
has an outcry to give the alarm when he seeth the enemy come. I choose my darlings, 
to lead you into the room where such things are, because you are women and they are 
easy for you. 

And, sir, said Christiana, pray let us see some more. So he had them into the slaugh- 
ter-house, where was a butcher killing a sheep; and, behold, the sheep was quiet and 
took her death patiently. Then said the Interpreter, You must learn of this sheep to 



82 THE pilgrim's progress. 

suffer and to put up with wrongs without murmurings and complaints. Behold how 
quietly she takes her death, and, without objecting, she suffereth her skin to be pulled 
over her ears. Your King doth call you his sheep. 

After this he led them into his garden, where was great variety of flowers; and he 
said. Do you see alJ these? So Christiana said, Yes. Then said he again, Behold, the 
flowers are diverse in stature, in quality and color and smell and virtue, and some 
are better than others ; also, where the gardener hath set them there they stand and 
quarrel not one with another. 

Again he had them into his field, which he had sown with wheat and corn; but when 
they beheld, the tops of all were cut off — only the straw remained. He said again, This 
ground was dunged and ploughed and sowed; but what shall we do with the crop? 
Tlien said Christiana, Burn some and make muck of the rest. Then said the Interpreter 
again, Fruit, you see, is that thing you look for, and lor want of that you condemn it to 
tiie fire and to be trodden under foot of men; beware that in this you condemn not 
yourselves. 

Then, as they were coming in from abroad, they spied a little robin with a great spi- 
der in his mouth ; so the Interpreter said. Look here. So they looked : and Mercy 
wondered, but Cliristiana said. What a disparagement is it to such a pretty bird as the 
robin-redbreast — he being also a bird, above many, tliat loveth to maintain a kind of 
sociableness with men! I had thought they had lived upon crumbs of bread, or upon 
such other harmless matter. I like him worse than I did. 

The Interpreter then replied. This robin is an emblem, very apt to set forth some pro- 
fessors by; for to sight they are, as this robin, pretty of note, color and carriage; they 
seem also to have a very great love for professors that are sincere, and, above all others, 
to desire to associate with them and to be in their company, as if they could live upon 
the good man's crumbs. They pretend also that therefore it is that they frequent the 
house of the godly, and the appointments of the Lord ; but wKen they ar^e by them- 
selves, as the robin; they can catch and gobble up spiders, they can change their diet, 
drink iniquity, and swallow down sin like water. 

So when they were come again into the house, because supper as yet was not ready, 
Christiana again desired that the Interpreter would either show or tell some other things 
that are profitable. 

Then the Interpreter began, and said : The fatter the sow is, the more she desires the 
mire; the fatter the ox is, the more gamesomely he goes to the slaughter; and tho more 
healthy the lustful man is, the more prone is he unto evil. 

There is a desire in women to go neat and fine ; and it is a comely thing to be adorned 
with that which in God's sight is of great price. 

'Tis easier watching a night or two than to sit up a whole year together; so 'tis easier 
for one to begin to profess well, than to hold out as he should to the end. 

Every shipmaster, when in a storm, will willing'y cast that overboard that is of the 
smallest value in the vessel; but who will throw the best out ^st? jN'one but he that 
feareth not God. 

One leak will sink a ship, and one sin will destroy a sinner. 

He that forgets his friend is ungrateful unto him; but he that forgets his Savior is un- 
merciful to himselt. 

He that lives in sin and looks for happiness hereafter, is like him that soweth cockle 
and thinks to fill his barn with wheat or barley. 

If a man would live well, let him fetch his last day to him, and make it always his 
company-keeper. 

Whispering and change of thoughts prove that sin is in the world. 

If the world, which God sets light by, is counted a thing of tJiat worth with men, 
what is heaven, that God commenaeth? 

If the life that is attended with so many troubles is so loath to be let go by us, what is 
the life above? 

Everybody will cry up the goodness of men; but who is there, that is, as he should 
be, affected with the goodness of God? 

We seldom sit down to meat, but we eat and leave; so there is in Jesus Christ more 
merit and righteousness than the whole world has need of. 

When the Interpreter had done he takes them out into his garden again, and had 
them to a tree whose inside was all rotten and gone, and yet it grew and had leaves. 
Then said Mercy, What means this? This tree (said he), whose outside is fair ai\d 
whose inside is rotten, is it to which many may be compared that ar« in the garden of 



I 



THE pilgrim's progress. 83 

God; who with their months speak high in bebnlf God, but in deed will do nothing 
for him ; whose leaves are fair, but tlieir heart good for notiiing, but to be tinder 
for the devil's tinder box. 

Now supper was ready, the table spread, and all things set on the board; so they sat 
down and did eat, when one ha(i given thanks. And the Interi)reter did usually enter- 
tain those that lodged with him with music at meals; so the minstrels played. There 
was also one that did sing, and a very fine voice he had. His song was this: 

The Lord is only my support, 

And l»e that doth me teed ; 
How can 1 then want any thing 

Wbereof I stand in need? 

When the song and music was ended, the Interpreter asked Christiana what it was 
thai at first did move her thus to betake herself to a pilgrim's life. Christiana answered. 
First, the loss of my husband came into my mind, at which I was heartily grieved ; but 
all tliat was but natural affection. Then, after that, came the troubles and pilgrimage 
of my husband into my mind, and also how like a churl I had carried it to him as to 
that. So guilt took hold of my mind, and would have drawn me into the pond; but 
that oppoitunely I had a dream of the well-being of my husband, and a letter sent me 
by tiie King of that country where my husband dwells, to come to him. The dream 
and the letter together so wrought upon my mind that they forced me to this way. 

Inter. But met you with no opposition before you set out* of doors? 

Chr. Yes, a neighbor of mine, one Mrs. Timorous (she was akin to him that would 
have persuaded my husband to go back for fear of the lions), she also so befooled me, 
for, as she called it, my intended desperate adventure; she also urged w4iat slie could 
to dishearten me from it — the hardships and troubles that my husband met with in the 
way; but all this I got over pretty well. But a dream that I had of two ill-looking 
oue«, that I thought did plot how to make me miscarry in my journey, that hath 
troubled me much; yea, it still runs in my mind, and makes me afraid of every one I 
meet, lest they should meet me to do mischief, and to turn me out of my way. Yea, I may 
tell my Lord, though I would not everybody know of it, that between this and the gate 
by which we got into the way, we were both so sorely assaulted that we were made to 
cry out Murder ! and the two that made this assault upon us were like the two that I 
saw in my dream. 

Then said the Interpreter, Thy beginning is good, thy latter end shall greatly increase. 
So he addressed himself to Mercy, and said unto her, And what moved thee to come 
hither, sweet heart? 

Then Mercy blushed and trembled; and for a while continued silent. 

Inter. Then said he, Be not afraid, only believe, and speak thy mind. 

Mercy. So she began, and said, Truly, sir, my want of experience is that which 
makes me covet to be in silence, and that also that fills me with fears of coming short at 
last. I cannot tell of visions and dreams, as my friend Christiana can; nor know I 
what it is to mourn for my refusing of the counsel of those tliat were good relations. 

Inter. What was it then, dear heart, that hath prevailed with thee to do as thou 
hast done? 

Mer. Why, when our friend here was packing np to be gone from our town, I 
and another went nccidentally to see her. So we knocked at the door, and went in. 
When we were witliin, and seeing what she was doing, we asked her what was her 
meaning? She said, she was sent for, to go to her husband; and then she up and told 
us how she had seen him in a dream, dwelling in a curious jdace amonir immortals, 
weaving a crown, playing upon a harp, eating and drinking at his Prince's table, and 
si ug.Mg praises to him for bringing him thither, etc. Now, methought, while she was 
telling these things unto us, my heart burned within me. And I said in my heart. If 
tiiis be true, 1 will leave my father and my mother, and the land of my nativity, and 
will, if I may, go along with Christiana. 

So I asked her further of the truth of these things, and ifVshe would let me go with 
her; for I saw now thnt there was no dwelling, but with the danger of ruin, any longer 
in our town. But yet I came away with a heavy heart; not for iivdi I was unwilling to 
come away, but for that so many of my relations were left behind. And I am come 
with all the desire of my heart, and will go, if I may, with Christiana, uuto her hus- 
band and his King. 

Inter. Thy setting out is good, for thou hast given credit to the truth; thou art a 



M tfHE KLGRIM^S PEOGHESS* 

Ruth, who did, for the love she bare to Naomi, and to tlie Lord her God, leave father 
and mother and the land of her nativity, to come out and go with a people that she 
knew not heretofore. ''The Lord recompense thy work, and a full reward be given 
theeoftheLordGodof Israel, under whose wings thou art come to trust." (Ruthii. 11,12.) 

Now supper was ended and preparation was made for bed; the women were laid 
singly alone, and the boys by themselves. Now, when Mercy was in bed she could not 
sleep for joy, for that now her doubts of missing at last were removed further from h*er 
than ever they were before. So she lay blessing and praising God, who had such favor 
for her. 

In the morning they arose with the sun, and prepared themselves for their departure; 
but the Interpreter would have them tarry a Avhile; For, said he, you must orderly go 
from hence. Then said he to the damsel that first opened unto them. Take them and 
have them into the garden to the bath, and there wash them and make them clean from 
the soil which they have gathered by traveling. Then Innocent the damsel took them 
and led^them into the garden, and brought them to the bath ; so she told them that there 
they must wash and be clean, for so her Master would have the women to do that called 
at his house as they were going on pilgrimage. Then they went in and washed, yea, 
they and the boys and all; and they came out of that bath not only sweet and clean, 
but also much enlivened and strengthened in their joints. So when they came in they 
looked fairer a deal than when they went out to the washing. 

Wiien they were returned out of the garden from the bath, the Interpreter took them 
and looked upon them, and said unto them, '' Fair as the moon." Then he called for 
the seal, wherewith they used to be sealed that were washed in his bath. So the seal 
was brought, and he set his mark upon them that they might be known in the places 
whither they were yet to go. Now the seal was the contents and sum of the passover 
which the children of Isra^.! did eat when they came out of the land of Egypt (Exod. 
xiii. 8-10) ; and the mark was set between their eyes. This seal greatly added to their 
beauty, for it was an ornament to their faces. It also added to their gravity, and njade 
their countenances more like those of angels. 

Then said the Interpreter again to the damsel that waited upon these women, Go into 
the vestry and fetch otit garments for these people. So she went and fetched out whiti^ 
raiment, and laid it down before him ; so he commanded them to put it on : it was ''fine 
linen, white and clean." When the women were thus adorned they seemed to be a 
terror one to the other, for that they could not see that glory each one had in herself, 
which they could see in each other. Now, therefore, they began to esteem each other 
better than themselves. For, You are fairer than I am, said one ; and. You are more 
comely than I am, said another. The children also stood amazed, to see into what 
fashion they were brought. 

THE THIRD STAGE. 

The Interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, one Great-heart, and bid him 

take a sword, a helmet, and a shield; and take these my daughters, said he, conduct 

them to the house called Beautiful, at which place they will rest next. So he took his 

weapons and went before them; and the Interpreter said. Godspeed. Those also that 

belonged to the family sent them away with many a good wish. So they went on their 

way and sang: 

This place hath been our second stage : 

Here we have heard and seen 
Those good thing?, that from age to age 

To others hid have been. 

The dung-hill raker, spider, hen, 
' The chicken, too, to me 

Have taught a lesson ; let me thea 
Conformed to it be. 

The butcher, garden, and the field, 

The robin and his bait. 
Also the rotten tree, doth yield 

Me argumf^ut of weight; 

To move me for to watch and pray, 

To strive to be sincere ; 
To take my cross up day by day, 

And serve the Lord with tear. 



THE riLG rim's niocr.r.sS. S5 

Now, I saw in my dream that these went on, and Great-heart before them; so they 
went, and came to the place where Christian's burden fell oft" his back and tumbled 
into a sepulcher. Here then they made a pause; here also they blessed God. Now, 
said Christiana, it comes to my mind what was said to us at the gate, to wit, that we 
should have pardon by word and deed: by word, that is, by the promise; by deed, to 
wit, in the way it was obtained. What the promise is, of that I know something; but 
what it is to have pardon by deed, or in the way that it was obtained, Mr. Great-heart, 
I suppose you know; wherefore, if you please, let us hear your discourse thereof. 

Great. Pardon by the deed done, is pardon obtained by some one for another 
that hath need thereof; not by the person pardoned, but in the way, saith another, in 
which I have obtained it. So then, to speak to the question more at large, the pardon 
that you, and Mercy, and these boys have attained, was obtained by another ; to-wit, by 
him that let you in at the gate ; and he hath obtained it in this double way : he hath 
performed righteousness to cover you, and spilt his blood to wash you in. 

Chr. But if he part with his righteousness to us, what will he have for himself? 

Great. He has more righteousness than you have need of or than he needeth him- 
self. 

Chr. Pray make that appear. 

Great. With all my heart; but first I must premise that he of whom we are no\v 
about to speak is one that has not his fellow. He has two natures in one person, plain 
to be distinguished, impossible to be divided. Unto each of these natures a righteous- 
ness belongeth, and each righteousness is essential to that nature. So that one may 
as easily cause each nature to be extinct as to separate its justice or righteousness froni 
it. Of these righteousnesses, therefore, we are not made partakers, so as that they, or 
any of them, should be put upon us, that we might be made just, and live thereby. 
Besides these, there is a righteousness which this person has, as these two natures are 
joined in one. And this is not the righteousness oi the Godhead, as distinguished fron. 
the manhood; nor the righteousness of the manhood, as distinguished from the God- 
head; but a righteousness which standeth in the union of both natures, and may prop- 
erly be called the righteousness that is essential to his being prepared of God to the 
capacity of the mediatory office, which he was entrusted with. If he parts with his 
first righteousness, he parts with his Godhead; if he parts with his second righteous- 
ness, he parts with the purity of his manhood; if he parts with his third, he parts with 
that perfection which capacitates him for the office of mediation. 

He has therefore another righteousness, which standeth in performance, or obedi- 
ence to a revealed will; and that is what he puts upon sinners, and that by which their 
sins are covered. Wherefore he saith, ''As by one man's disobedience many were made 
smners; so by the obedience of one shall many be made righteous,'' (K,om, v. 19.) 

Chr. But are the other righteousnesses of no use to us? 

Great. Yes; for though they are essential to his natures and office, and cannot b& 
communicated unto another, yet itis by virtue of them that the righteousness that jus- 
tifies is for that purpose efficacious. The righteousness of his Godnead gives virtue to 
his obedience; the righteousness of his manhood giveth capability to his obedience to 
justify; and the righteousness that standeth in the union of these two natures to his 
office giveth authority to that righteousness to do the work for which it wc^^j^-dained. 

So, then, here is a righteousness that Christ, as God, has no need of; for lie is God 
without it. Here is a righteousness that Christ, as man, has no need of to make liim 
so, for he is perfect man without it. Again, here is a righteousness, that Christ, as God- 
man, has no need of, for he is perfectly so without it. Here then is a righteousness 
that Christ, as God, and as God-man, has no need of, with reference to himself, and 
therefore he can spare it ; a justifying righteousnesss, that he for himself wanteth not, 
and therefore giveth it away. Hence it is called "the gift of righteousness." This 
righteousness, since Christ Jesus the Lord has made himself under the law, must be 
given away ; for the law doth not only bind him thait is under it to do justly, but to use 
charity. Wherefore he must, or ought by the law, if he hath two coats, to give one to 
him that has none. Now, our Lord indeed hatii two coats, one for himself, and one to 
spare; wherefore he freely bestows one upon those that have none. And thus, Christ- 
iana and Mercy, and the rest of you that are here, doth your pardon come by deed, oi 
by the work of another man. Your Lord Christ is he that worked, and hath given 
away what he wrought for, to the next poor beggar he meets. 

But again, in order to pardon by deed, there must something be paid to God as a 
price, as well as sometiiing prepared to cover ua withal. Sin has delivered us up to the 



o6 THB PILGRIM'S PROORKSS. 

jnst curse of n righteous law; now, from this curse we must be justified by wfly of re- 
demption, a price i^einj^ paid for the harms we have done ; and tliat is by the blood of 
your Lord, who came aud stood in your phice and stead, and died your deatli for your 
trangressions. Thus has he ransomed you from your traugre-sioiis by blood, and cov- 
ered your polluted and deformed souls with righteousness. (Jlom. viii. 'M; Gal. iii. 13.) 
For the sake of which God passeth by you, and will not hurt you when he comes to 
judge the world. 

Cpir. This is brave; now I see that there was something to be learned by our being 
pardoned byword and deed. Good Mercy, let us labor to keep this in mind ; and, my 
children, do you remember it also. But, sir, was not this it that made my good Christ- 
iana's burden fall from off his shoulders, and that made him give three leaps for joy? 

Great. Yes, it was the belief of this that cut those strings, that could not be cut by 
other means; and it was to give him a proof of the virtue of this that he was suflered 
to carry his burden to the cross. 

Chr. I thought so ; for though my heart was lightsome and joyous before, yet it is 
ten times more lifrhtsome and joyous now. And I am persuaded by what I have felt 
(though I have felt but little as ye\), that if the most burdened man in the world was 
here, and did see and believe, as I now do, it would make his heart the more merry and 
blithe. 

^ Great. There is not only comfort and the ease of a burden brought to us by the 
sight ajid consideration of these, but an endeared affection bes^ot in us by it; for who 
can (if he doth but once think that pardon conies not only by promises, but thus) but 
be affected with the way aud means of his redemption, and so'with the man that hath 
wrought it for him? 

Citr. True, m(>thinks it makes mv heart bleed to think that he should bleed forme. 
Oh, thou loving One! Oh, thou blessed One! Thou deservest to have me; thou hast 
bought me; thou deservest to have me all; thou hast paid for me ten thousand times 
more than lam worth! No marvel that this made the tears stand in my husband's 
eyes, and that it made him trudge so nimbly on; lam persuaded he wished me with him; 
but, vile wretch that I was, I let him come all alone. Oh, Mercy, that thy father and 
mother were here; yea, and Mrs. Timorous also; nay, I wish now with all my heart that 
here was Madam Wanton too. Surely, surely, their hearts would be affected ; nor could 
the fear of the one, nor the power lusts of the other, prevail with them to go home 
again, and refuse to become good pilgrims. 

Great. You speak now in the warjntli of your affections; will it, think you, be al- 
ways thus with you? Beside, this is not communicated to every one, nor to every one 
that did see your Jesus bleed. There were that stood by, and that saw the blood run 
from his heart to the ground, and yet Avere so far ofi" this, that, instead of lamenting, 
they laughed at him; and, instead of becoming his disciples, did harden their hearts 




you have therefore by a special grace. 

Now I saw in my dream that they went on until they were come to the place that 
Sim])le, and Sloth, and Presumption, lay and slept in, Avhen Christian went by on pil- 
giima'_,^e; and, behold, they were hanged up in irons a little way otf on the other side. 

Mi:R. Then said Mercy to him that was their guide and conductor, What are these 
three men; and for what are they hanged there? 

Great. These three men were men of bad qualities; they had no mind to be pil- 
grims tiiemselves, and whomsoever ihey could they hindered; they were sloth and folly 
themselves, and whomsoever they couid persuade they made so too ; and withal taught 
them to presume that they should do well at last. They were asleep wheu Christian 
went by; and now you go'by, they are hanged. 

Mer. But could they persuade any to be^of their opinion? 

Great. Yes, they turned several out of the way. There was Slow-pace, that they 
persuaded to do as they. They also prevailed with one Short-wind, with one No-heart, 
with one Linirer-after-lust, and With one Sleepy-head, and with a young woman, her name 
was Dull, to turn out of the way, and become as they. Beside, "they brought up an ill 
report of your Lord, persuading others that he was a hard taskmaster. They also 
brought up an evil report of the good land, saving, It was not half so good as son'ie pre- 
tended it was. They also began to vilitV his servants, and to count the best of them 
meddlesome, troublesome busybodies; further, they would call the bread of God, husks. 



THE riLGRIM'S PROGRESS. 87 

the comforts of his children, fancies; the travail and labor of pilgrims, things to no 
jjurpose. 

Xay, said Christiana, if they were such, they should never be bewailed by me ; they 
have but what they deserve; and I think it is well that they stand so near the highway, 
that others may see and take warning. But had it not been well if their crimes had 
been engraven in some plate of iron or brass, and left here where they did their mis- 
chiefs, for a caution to other bad men? 

Great. So it is, as you may well perceive, if you will go a little to the wall. 

Mer. No, no; let them hang, and their names rot, and their crimes live forever 
against them; I think it is a high favor that they were hanged afore we came hither; 
who knows else what they might have done to such poor women as we are? Then she 
turned it into a song, saying— 

Now then you three hang there, and he a sign 
To all that shall against the truth combine. 
And let him that comes after fear this end, 
If unto pilgrims he is not a friend. 
And thou, my soul, of all such men beware, 
That unto holiness opposeis are. 

Thus they went on, till they came at the foot of the hill Difficulty, where again the 
good Mr. Great-heart took an occasion to tell them what happened there when Christ- 
fan himself went by. So he had them first to the' spring. Lo, said he, this is the 
Faring tnat Christian drank of before he went up this hill; and then it was clear and 
good, but now it is dirty with the feet of some that are not desirous that pilgrims here 
should quench their thirst. (Ezek. xxxiv. 8.) Thereat Mercy said, And why so envi- 
ous, trow? But said their guide, It will do, if taken up and put into a vessel that is 
sweet and good; for then the dirt will sink to the bottom, and the water come out by 
itself more clear. Thus, therefore, Christiana and her companions were compelled to 
do. They took it up, and put it into an earthern pot, and so let it stand till the dirt was 
gone to the bottom, and then they drank thereof. 

Next he showed them the two by-ways that were at the foot of the hill, where For- 
mality and Hypocrisy lost themselves. And, said he, these are dangerous paths ; two 
Avere here cast away when Christian came by. And although, as you see, these ways 
are since stopped up with chains, posts, and a ditch, yet there are those that will choose 
to adventure here rather than take the pains to go up this hill. 

Chr. "The way of trangressors is hard" (Prov. xiii. 15); it is a wonder that they 
can get into these ways witnout danger of breaking their necks. 

Great. They will venture ; yea, if at any time any of the King's servants doth hap- 
pen to see them, and doth call upon them, and tell them that they are in the wrong 
way, and do bid them beware of the danger, then they railiugly return them answer, 
and say, "As for the word that thou hast spoken unto us in the name of the King, we 
will not hearken unto thee; but we will certainly do whatsoever thing goeth out of our 
own mouth.'' (Jer. xliv. 16, 17.) Nay, if you look a little further, you shall see that 
these ways are made cautionary enough, not only by these posts, and ditch, and chain, 
but also by being hedged up ; yet they will choose to go there. 

Chr. They are idle ; they love not to take pains ; up-hill way is unpleasant to them. 
So it is fulfilled unto them as it is written, "The way of the slothful man is as an 
hedge of thorns." (Prov. xv. 19.) Yea, they will rather choose to walk upon a snare, 
than to go up this hiU, and the rest of this way to the City. 

Then they set forward, and began to go up the hill, and up the hill they went; but be- 
fore they got to the top, Christiana began to pant, and said, I dare say this is a breath- 
ing hill, no marvel if they that love their ease more than their souls choose to them- 
selves a smoother way. Then said Mercy, I must sit down; also the least of the chii- 
dred beajan to cry. Come, come, said Great-heart, sit not down here, for a little above 
is the Prince's arbor. Then he took the little boy by the hand, and led him up 
thereto. 

When they were come to the arbor, they were very willing to sit down, for they were 
all in a pelting heat. Then said Mercy, How sweet is rest to them that labor! (Matt, 
xi. 28.) And how good is the Prince of pilgrims, to provide such resting-places for 
them ! Of this arbor I have heard much ; but I never saw it before. But here let us 
beware of sleeping, for as I have heard, it cost poor Christian dear. 

Then said Mr. Great-heart to the little ones. Come, my pretty boys, how do you do ? 
What think you now of going on pilgrimage ? Sir, said the least, I was almost beat out 



8S THE pilgrim's PnOGKESS. 

of heart; but I thank you for Icndincr me a hand at my need. And I remember now 
what my mother hath told mc, niiinely, that the way to heaven is as a ladder, and the 
way to hell is as down a hill. But I had rather go up the ladder to life, than down 
the hill to death. 

Then said Mercy, But the proverb is, '^ To go down the hill is easy.'* But James said, 
(for that was h's name, The day is coming, when, in my opinion, going down the hill 
will be the hardest of all. ^Tis a good boy, said his master ; thou hast given her a right 
answer. Then Mercy smiled, but the little boy did blush. 

Come, said Christiana, will you eat a bit, to sweeten your mouths, while you sit here 
to rest your legs ? For I have here a piece of pomegranate, which Mr. Interpreter put 
into my hand just when I came out of his door ; he gave me also a piece of an honey- 
comb, and a little bottle of spirits. 

I thought he gave you something, said Mercy, because he called you aside. 

Yes, so he did, said the other. But, said Christiana, it shall be still as I said it 
should, when at first we came from home ; thou shalt be a sharer in all the good that I 
have, because thou so willingly didst become my companion. 

Then sne sfave to them, and they did eat, both Mercy and the boys. And said Chris- 
tiana to Mr. Great-heart, Sir, will you do as we? But he answered. You are going on 
pilgrimage, and presently I shall return ; much good may what you have do you. At 
home I eat the same every day. 



THE FOURTH STAGE. 

Now when they had eaten and drank, and had chatted a little longer, their guide said 
to them. The day wears away ; if you think good, le-t us prepare to be going. So they 
got up to go, and the little boys went before ; but Christiana forgot to take her bottle 
of spirits with her, and so she sent her little boy back to fetch it. Then said Mercy, I 
think this is a losing place. Here Christian lost his roll, and here Christiana left her 
bottle behind her. Sir, what is the cause of this ? So their guide made answer, and 
said. The cause is sleep or forgetfulness ; some sleep when they should keep awake^ 
and s'jme forget when they should remember ; and this is the very cause why often, at 
the resting-places, some pilgrims in some things come ofi* losers. Pilgrims should 
watch and remember what they have already received under their greatest enjoy- 
ments ; but for want of doing so oftentimes their rejoicing ends in tears, and their sun- 
siiine in a cloud; witness the story of Christian at this place. 

When they w^ere come to the place where Mistrust and Timorous met Christian to 
persuade him to go back for fear of the lions, they perceived as it were a stage, and be- 
fore it, toward the road, a broad plate, with a copy of verses written thereon ; and, un- 
derneath, the reason of raising up of that stage in that place rendered. Tke verses 
were ; 

Let him that sees this stage, take heed 
, Unto his heart and tongue ; 

Lest, if he do not, here he speed 
As some have long agone. 

The words underneath the verses were, **This stage was built to punish those upon 
who through timorousness and mistrust shall be afraid to go further on pilgrimage ; 
also on this stage both Mistrust and Timorous were burnt through the tongue with a 
hot iron for endeavoring to hinder Christian on his journey." 

Then said Mercy, This is much like to the saying of the Beloved : " What shall be 
given unto thee, or what shall be done unto thee, thou false tongue ? Sharp arrows of 
the mighty, with coals of juniper." (Psalms cxx. 3, 4.) 

So they went on till they came within sight of the lions. Now Mr. Great-heart was a 
strong man, so he was not afraid of a lion ; but yet when they were come up to the 
place where the lions were, the boys that went before were now glad to cringe behind, 
for they were afraid of the lions ; so they stepped back and went behind. At this their 
guide smiled, and said. How now, my boys, do you love to go before when no danger 
doth approach, and love to come behind so soon as the lions appear ? 

Now, as they went on, Mr. Great-heart drew his sword with intent to make a way for 
the pilgrims in spite of the lions. Then there appeared one that it seems had taken 
upon him to back the lions ; and he sg-id to th,e pilgrims' guide,, What is the Qauaa of 



► 



^iiJE i>iLGlli]M S PIlOGRESti. 



yoiil' cotning hither? Not7 the name of that man was Grim, or Bloody-man, because of 
his slaying of pilgrims; and lie was of the race of the giants. 

Then said the pilgrims' guide, These women and children are going on pilgrim- 
age ; and this is the way they must go ; and go it they shall, in spite of thee and 
the lions. 

Grim. This is not their way, neither shall they go therein. I am come forth to with- 
stand them, aiid to that end will back the lions. 

Now, to say truth, by reason of the fierceness of the lions, and of the grim car- 
riage of him that did back them, this way had of late lain much unoccupied, and 
was almost grown over with grass. 

ThensaidChristiana,Thoughthehighwayshavebeen unoccupied heretofore, and though 
the travelers have been made in times past to Avalk tli rough by-paths, it must not be so 
now I am risen, ^'Now I am risen a mother in Israel.'' (Judges v. 6, 7.) 

Then he swore by the lions that it should ; and therefore bid them turn aside, for 
they should not have passage there. 

But Great-heart, their guide, made first his approach unto Grim, and laid so heavily 
on him with his sword that he forced him to retreat. 

Then saidhe that attempted to back the lions. Will you slay me upon my own ground ? 

Great. It is the king's highway that we are in, and in this way it is that thou hast 
placed the lions; but these women and these children, though ^veak, shall hold on their 
way in spite of thy lions. And with that he gave him again a downright blow, and 
brought him upon his knees. With this blow also he broke his lielmet, and with the 
next he cut oil' an arm. Then did the giant roar so hideously that his voice frightened 
the women; and yet they were glad to see him lie sprawling upon the ground. Now 
the lions w^ere chained, and so of themselves could do nothing. Wherefore, when old 
Grim, that intended to back them, was dead, Mr. Great-heart said to the pilgrims, 
Come now and follow me, and no hurt shall happen to you from the lions. They there- 
fore went on, but the women trembled as they passed by them; the boys also looked as 
if they w^ould die; but they all got by without further hurt. 

Now, w^hen they were w^ithin sight of the Porter's lodge, they soon came up unto it; but 
they made the more haste after this to go thither, because it is dangerous traveling 
there in the night. So when they were come to the gate the guide knocked, and the 
porter cried, Who is there? But as soon as the guide had said. It is I, he knew his 
voice and came down ; for the guide had oft before that come thither as a conductor of 
pilgrims. When he was come down he oj^ened the gate, and seeing the guide standing 
just before it (for he saw not the women, for they were behind him) he said unto him. 
How now, Mr. Great-heart, what is your business here so late at night? I have brought, 
said he, some pilgrims hither, wiiere, by my Lord's commandment, they must lodge ; 
I had been here some time ago had I not been opposed by the giant that used to back 
the lions. But I, after a long and tedious combat with him, have cut him ofi^ and have 
brought the pilgritns hither in safety. 

POR. Will not.you go in and stay stay till morning? 

Great. No ; I will return to my Lord to-night. 

Chr. Oh, sir, I know not how to be willing you should leave us in our pilgrimage; 
you ^have been so faithful and so loving to us, you have fought so stoutly for us, you 
have been so hearty in counseling of us, that I shall never forget your favor 
toward us. 

Then said Mercy, Oh, that we might have thy company to our journey's end ! How 
can such poor women as we hold out in a way so full of troubles as this way is without 
a friend and defender? 

Then said James, the youngest of the boys. Pray, sir, be persuaded to go with us and 
help us, because we are so weak, and the way so dangerous as it is. 

Great. I am at my Lord's commandment; if he shall allot me to be your guide 
quite throtigh I will willingly wait upon you. But here you failed at first; for when he 
bid me come thus far with you then you should have begged me of him to have gone 
quite through with you, and he would have granted your request. However, at present 
1 must withdraw ; and so, good Christiana, Mercy, and my brave children, adieu. 

Then the porter, Mr. Watchful, asked Christiana of her country, and of her kindred ; 
and she said, I came from the city of Destruction ; I am a widow-woman, and my hus- 
band is dead ; his name was Christian, the pilgrim. 

How! said the porter; was he your husband? Yes, said she, and these are his chil- 
dren; and this (pointing to Merry) is one of my townswomen. 



90 THE PlLGr.n,i's PROGrv:n:S§, 

Then the porter rang his bell, as at snch times he is wont, and there came to the door 
one of the damsels, whose name was Hnmble-mind. And to her the porter said. Go 
tell it within that Christiana, the wife of Christian, and her children, have come hither 
on a pilgrimage. She went in, therefore, and told it. But oh, what noise for gladness 
was there within when the damsel did but drop that out of her mouth ! 

So they came with haste to the porter, for Christiana stood still at the door. Then 
some of the most grave said unto her, Come in, Christiana, come in, thou wife of 
that good man ; come in, thou blessed woman, come in, with all that are with thee. So 
she went in, and they followed her that were her chiklren and companions. Now, when 
they were gone in they were had into a large room where they were bidden to sit down ; 
so they sat down, and the chief of the house was called to see and welcome the guests. 
Then they came in, and, understanding who they were, did salute each other with a 
kiss, and said, Welcome, ye vessels of the grace of God, welcome unto us your 
friends. 

Now, because it was somewhat late, and because the pilgrims were weary with their 
journey, and also made faint witii the sight of the light and of the terrible lions, they 
desired, as soon as might be, to prepare to go to rest. Nay, said those of the family, re- 
fresh yourselves first with a morsel of meat; for they had prepared for them a Tamb 
with the accustomed sauce belonging thereto. (Exod. xii. 3 ; John i. 29.) For the 
porter had heard before of their coming, and had told it to them within. So when 
they had supped, and ended their prayer with a psalm, they desired that they might 
go to rest. 

But let us, said Christiana, if we may be so bold as to choose, be in that chamber that 
was my husband's when he Avas here. So t.iey he had them up thither, and they all lay 
in a room. When they were at rest, Christiana and Mercy entered into discourse about 
things that were convenient. 

Chk. Little did I think once, when my husband went on j^ilgrimage, that I should 
ever have foUoAved him. 

Meb. And you as little thought of lying in his bed, and in his chamber to rest as you 
do now. 

Chr. And much less did I ever think of seeing his face with comfort, and of wor- 
shiping the Lord the King with him; , and yet now I believe I shall. 

Mer. Hark ! don't you hear a noise ? 

Che. Yes, 'tis, as I believe, a noise of music, for joy that we are here. 

Mer. Wonderful! Music in the house, music in the heart, and music also in 
iieaven, for joy that we are here. 

Thus they talked a while, and then betook themselves to sleep. So in the morning, 
when they were awakened, Christiana said to Mercy, What was the matter that you dill 
laugh in your sleep to-night? I suppose you was in a dream. 

Mer. So I was, and a sweet dream it was ; but are you sure I laughed? 

Chr. Yes, you laughed heartily ; but pr'ythee, Mercy, tell me thy^'dream. 

Mer. I was dreaming that I sat all alone in a solitary place, and was bemoaning of 
the hardness of my heart. Now, I had not sat there long, but methought many were 
gathered about me to see me, and to hear what it was that I said. So they hearkened 
and I went on bemoaning the hardness of my heart. At this, some of them laughed at 
me, some called me a fool, and some began to thrust me about. 

With that, methought I looked up, and saw one coming with wings toward me. So 
he came directly to me and said, Mercy, what aileth thee ? Now, when he had heard 
me make my complaint, he said. Peace be to thee; he also wiped mine eyes with his 
handkerchief, and clad me in silver and gold. He put a chain about my neck, and ear- 
rings in mine ears, and a beautiful crown upon my head. (Ezek. xvi. 8-13.) 

Then he took me by the hand and said, Mercy, come after me. So he went up, and I 
followed till we came at a golden gate. Then he knocked, and when they within had 
opened, the man went in, and I followed him up to a throne upon which one sat, and 
he said to me, Welcome, daughter. The place looked bright and twinkling, like the 
stars, or rather like the sun, and I thought that I saw your husband there. So I awoke 
from my dream. But did I laugh ? 

Chr. Laugh ! ay, and well you might, to see yourself so well. For you must give 
me leave to tell you that it was a good dream, and that, as you have begun to find the 
first part true, so you shall find the second at last. ''God speaks once, yea twice, yet 
man perceiveth it not ; in a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth 
upon men, in slumbering upon the bed." (Job xxxiii. 14-16.) We need not when 



THE riLGRIM'S PROGKESS. 91 

a-bed, to lie awake to talk with God; he can visi.' us while we sleep, and cause us then 
to hear his voice. Our heart oftentimes wakes when we sleep; and God can speak to 
that either by words, by proverbs, by siirns and similitudes, as well as if one was awake. 

Mer. Well, I am glad of my dream, for I hope ere long to see it lulfilled, to the 
making of me laugh again. 

Chr. I think it is now high time to rise, and to know what we must do. 

Mer. Pray, if they invite us to stay awhile, let us willingly accept of the proffer. I 
am the willinger to stay a v/hile liere, to grow better acquainted vdth these maids; 
metMnks Prudence, Piety and Charity have very comely and sooer countenance. 

CiiR. We shall see what they will do. 

So when they were up and ready they came clown, and theo- asked one another of 
their rest, and if it was comfortable or no^ 

Very good, said Mercy; it was one of the best nic^ht's lodgings that I ever had in my 
life. 

Then said Prudence and Piety, If you will be persuaded to siay here awhile, you 
shall have what the house will afford. 

Ay, and that with a very good will, said Charity. 

So they consented, and stayed there about a month or above, and became vciy profit- 
able one to another. And, because Prudence would see how Christiana had ])roagiit 
up her children, she asked leave of her to catechise them; so she gave her fi'ee con- 
sent. Then she began with the youngest, whose name was James. 

Prud. And she said, Come, James, canst thou tell me who made thee? 

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, 

Prud. Good boy. And canst thou tell who saved thee? 

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. 

Peud. Good boy still. But how doth God the Father save thee? 

James. By his grace. 

Prud. How doth God the Son save thee ? 

James. By his righteousness, death and blood, and life. 

Prud. And how doth God the Holy Ghost save thee? 

James. By his illumination, by his renovation, and by his preservation. 

Then said Prudence to Christiana, You are to be commended for thus bringing up 
your children. I suppose I need not ask the rest these questions, since the youngest of 
them can answer them so well. I will therefore now apply myself to the next youngest. 

Prud. Then she said, Come, Joseph (for his name was Joseph), will you lei me 
catechise you? 

Jos. With all my heart. 

Prud. AVhat is man ? 

Jos. A reasonable creature, so made by God, as my brother said. 

Prud. AYhat is supposed by this word, saved? 

Jos. That man by sin has brought himself into a state of captivity and misery. , 

Prud. What is supposed by his being saved by the Trinity? 

Jos. That sin is so great and mighty a tyrant that none can pull us out of its 
clutches but God; and that God. is so good and loving to man as to pull him inuccd 
out of this miserable state. 

Prud. What is God's design in saving poor man? 

Jos. The gloriiyisg of his name, of his grace, and justice, etc., and the everlasting 
happiness of his creature. 

Prud. AVho are they that must be saved? 

Jos. They that accept of his salvation. 

Prud. Good boy, Joseph; thy mother hath taught thee well, and thou hast heark- 
ened unto what she has said unto thee. 

Prud. Then said Prudence to Samuel (who was the eldest but one), Come, Samuel, 
are you willing that I should catechise you? 

Sam. Yes, forsooth, if you please. 

Prud. What is heaven ? 

Sam. a place and state most blessed, because God dwelleth there. 

Prud. What is hell? 

Sam. a place and state most woeful, because it is the dwelling-place Oi! sin, the 
devil, and death. 

Prud. AVhy wouldst thou go to heaven? 

Sam. That 1 may see God, and serve him without weariness; that I may see Christ, 



92 THE FILGRIINI'S PROGRESS. 

and love him everlastingly ; that I may have that fullness of the Holy Spirit in me 
which I can by no means here enjoy. 

Prud. a very good bov, and one that has learned well. 

Then she addressed herself to the eldest, whose name was Matthew; and she said to 
him, Come, Matthew, shall I also catechise you? 

Matt. With a very good will. 

Prud. I ask, then, if there was every anything that had a being antecedent to, or 
before, God? 

Matt. No; for God is eternal; nor is there anything excepting himself that had a 
being until the beginning of the first day. '' For in six days the Lord made heaven and 
earth, the sea, and all that in them is." '(Exod. xx. 11.) 

Prud. "What do yoii think of the Bible?) ••; 

Matt. It is the holy word of God. 

Prud. Is there nothing written therein but what you understand ? 

Matt. Yes, a great deal. 

Prud. What do you do when you meet with places therein that you do not under- 
stand ? 

Matt. I think God is wiser than I. I pray also that he will please let me know all 
therein that he knows will be for my good. 

Prud. How believe you as touching the resurrection of the dead? 

Matt. I believe they shall rise, the same that was buried ; the same in nature, 
though not in corruption. And I believe this upon a double account: First, because 
God has promised it ; secondly, because he is able to perform it. 

Then said Prudence to the boys. You must still hearken to your mother, for she can 
learn you more. You must also diligently give ear to what good talk you shall hear from 
others; for your sakes do they speak good things. Observe also, and that with care- 
fulness, what the heavens and the earth do teach you; but especially be much in the 
meditation of that book which was the cause of your father's becoming a pilgrim. I, 
for my part, my children, will teach you what I can while you are here, and shall be 
glad if you will ask me questions that tend to godly edifying. 

Now, by that these pilgrims had been at this place a week Mercy had a visitor that 
pretended some good will unto her, and his name was Mr. Brisk; a man of some 
breeding, and that pretended to religion, but a man that stuck very close to the world. 
So he came once or twice, or more, to Mercy, and offered love unto her. 

Now, Mercy was of a fair countenance, and therefore the more alluring. Her mind 
also was to be always busying of herself in doing ; for when she had nothing to do for 
herself, she would be making of hose and garments for others, and would bestow them 
upon them that had need. And Mr. Brisk, not knowing where or how she disposed of 
what she made, seemed to be greatiy taken, for that he found her never idle. I will 
warrant her a good housewife, quoth he to himselP. 

Mercy then revealed the business to the maidens that were of the house, and in- 
quired of them concerning him, for they did know him better than she. So they told 
her that he was a very busy young man, and one that pretended to religion ; but was, 
as they feared, a stranger to the power of that which is good. 

Nay, then, said Mercy, I will look no more on him; for I purpose never to have a 
clog to my soul. 

Prudence then replied that there needed no matter of great discouragement to be 
given to him ; for continuing so as she had begun, to do for the poor, would quickly 
cool his courage. 

So the next time he comes he finds her"at her old work, a making of things for the 
poor. Then said he. What! always at it? Yes, said she, either lor myself or for 
others. And what canst thou earn a day? quoth he. *' I do these things," said she, 
** that I may be rich in good works, laying a foundation against the time to come, 
that I may lay hold on eternal life." (I. Tim. vi. 18, 19.) Why,'pr'ythee, what dost 
thou do with them, said he? Clothe the naked, said she. With that his countenance 
fell. So he forbore to come at her again. And when he was asked the reason why, 
he said, that Mercy was a pretty lass, but troubled with ill conditions. 

When he left her. Prudence said, did I not tell thee that Mr. Brisk would soon 
forsake thee? yea, he will raise up an ill report of thee ; for notwithstanding his 
pretence to religion, and his seeming love to Mercy, yet Mercy and he are of 
tempers so different that I believe they will never come together 

Mer. I might have had husbands before now, though I spoke not of it to any: but 



THE riLGElM'S PKOGKESS. 93 

thev were such as did not like my conditions, though never did any of them find fault 
with my person. So they and I could not agree. 

Prud. Mercy in our days is but little set by, any further than as to its name ; the 
practice, which is set forth by thy conditions, there are but few that can abide. 

Mer. Well, said ^lercy, if nobody will have me, I will die a maid, or my con- 
ditions shall be to me as a husband; for I cannot change my nature; and to have one 
that lies cross to me in this, that I purpose never to admit of as long as I live. I had a 
sister, named Bountiful, that was married to one of these churls, but he and she 
could never agree; but, because my sister was resolved to do as she had begun, that 
is, to show kindness to the poor, therefore her husband first cried her down at the 
cross, and then turned her out of his doors. 

Prud. And yet he was a professor, I warrant you! 

Mer. Yes, such a one as he was, and of such as he the world is now full ; but I am 
for none of them all. 

Now, Matthew- the eldest son of Christiana, fell sick, and his sickness was sore upon 
him, for he was much pained in his bowels, so tnat he w^as with it, at times, pulled as it 
were both ends together. There dw^elt also not far from thence one Mr. Skill, an 
ancient and well-approved physician. So Christiana desired it, and they sent for him, 
and he came ; when he was entered the room, and had a little observed the boy, he 
concluded that he was sick of the gripes. Then he said to his mother. What diet has 
Matthew of late fed upon? Diet! said Christiana, nothing but what is wholesome. 
The physician answered, This boy has been tampering with something that lies in his 
maw undigested, and that will not away without means. And I tell you, he must 
be purged, or else he will die. 

Then said Samuel, Mother, what was that which my brother did gather up and eat 
so soon as we were come from the gate that is at the head of this w^ay? You know 
that there was an orchard on the left hand, on the other side of the wall, and" some of 
the trees hung over the wall, and my brother did pluck and eat. 

True, my child, said Christiana, he did take thereof, and did eat; naughty boy as he 
was, I chid him, and yet he would eat thereof. 

Skill. I knew he had eaten of something that was not wholesome food; and 
that food, to wit, that fruit, is even the most hurtful of all. It is the fruit of Beelze- 
bub^s orchard. I do marvel that none did warn you of it; many have died 
thereof. 

Then Christiana began to cry; and she said, Oh, naughty boy! and Oh, careless 
mother ! what shall I do for my son? 

Skill. Come, do not be too much dejected; the boy may do well again, but he must 
purge and vomit. 

Chr. Pray, sir, try the utmost of your skill with him, whatever it costs. 

Skill. Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable. So he made him a purge, but it was too 
weak; 'twas said, it was made of the blood of a goat, the ashes of a heifer, and with 
some of the juice of hyssop, etc. (Heb. ix. 19, x. 1, 4.) When Mr. Skill had seen that 
that purge was too weak, he made one to the purpose ; it was made ex came et sanguine 
Christi{John vi. 54, 57); you know physicians give strange medicines to their patients; 
and it was made into pills, with a promise or two, and proportionable quantity of salt. 
(Mark ix. 49.) Now, he was to take them three at a time, fasting, in half a quarter of a 
2^int of the tears of repentance. (Zech. xii. 10.) 

When .this potion was prepared, and brought to the boy, he was loath to take it, 
though torn with the gripes as if he should be pulled in pieces. Come, come, said the 
physician, you must take it. It goes against my stomach, said the boy. I must have 
you take it, said his mother. I shall vomit it up again, said the boy. Pray, sir, said 
Christiana to Mr. Skill, how does it taste? It has no ill taste, said the doctor; and with 
that she touched one of the pills with the tip of her tongue. Oh, Matthew, said she, 
this potion is sweeter than honey. If thou lovest thy mother, if thou lovest thy broth- 
ers, if thou lovest Mercy, if the lovest thy life, take it.. So, with much ado, after a short 
prayer for the blessing of God upon it, he took it, and it wrought kindly with him. It 
caused him to purge, it caused him to sleep, and to rest quietly ; it put him into a fine 
heat and breathing sweat, and it quite rid him of his gripes. 

So in a little time he got up, and walked about with a staff, and would go from room 
to room, and talk with Prudence, Piety, and Charity, of his distemper, and how he was 
healed. So, when the boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr. Skill, saying, sir, what will 
content you for your pains, and care to and of my child? And he said, You must pay the 



94 THE PILGEIM'S rrwOGEESS. 

Master of the College of Physicians, according to rules made in that case, and provided. 
(Heb.xiii. 15.) 

But, sir; said she, what is this pill good for else? 

Skill, It is a universal pill; it is good against all the diseases that pilgrims are in- 
cident to; and, Avhen it is well prepared, Avill keep good time out of mind. 

Cur. Pray, sir, make me up twelve boxes of themj for, if I can get these, I will never 
take other physic. 

Skill. These pills are good to prevent diseases, as well as to cure when one is sick. 
Yea, I dare say it, and stared to it, that if a man will but use tliis physic as he should 
it will make him live forever. (John vi. 51.) But, good Christiana, thou must gi\e 
these pills no other way but as I have prescribed; for if you do, they will do no good. 
So he gave unto Christiana physic for herself, and her boys, and for Mercy; and bid . 
Matthew take heed how he ate any more green plums ; and kissed them and went hi.-: 
way. 

It was told you before that Prudence bid the boys that if at any time they would, they 
should ask her some questions that might be profitable, and she would say something 
to them. 

Then Matthew, who had been sick, asked her, Why, for the most part, physic should 
be bitter to our palates ? 

Prud. To show how unwelcome the word of God and the effects thereof, are to a 
carnal heart. 

Mat. Why does physic, if it does good, purge and cause to vomit? 

Pkud. Toshow that the word, when it works effectually, ckanseth the heart and 
mind. For look, what the one doth to the body, the other doth to the soul. 

Mat. What should we learn by seeing the flame of our fire go upward ; and by see- 
ing the beams and sweet influences of the sun strike downward? 

Pkud. By tiie going up of the fire we are taught to ascend to heaven by fervent and 
hot desires. And by the sun's sending his heat, beams and sweet influences down- 
ward we are taught that the Savior of the world, though h.gh, reaches down with hxs 
grace and love to us below. 

Mat. Whence have the clouds their water? 

Pkud. Out of the sea. 

Mat. What may we learn from that? 

Phud. That ministers should fetch their doctrine from God? 

Mat. Wliy do they empty themselves upon the earth? 

pRUD. To show that ministers should give out what they know of God to the world. 

Mat. Why is the rainbow caused by the sun ? 

Prud. To show that the covenant of God's grace is confirmed to us in Christ, 

Mat. Wh}' do the springs come from the sea to us through the earth ? 

Prud. To shov/ that the grace of God comes to us through the body of Christ. 

Mat. Why do some of the springs rise out of the tops ot high hills? 

Prud. To sliow that the spirit of grace shall spring up in some that are great and 
mighty, as well as in many that are poor and low. 

Mat. Why doth the fire fasten upon the candlewick? 

Prud. To show that unless grace doth kindle upon the heart there will be no true 
light of life in us. 

Mat. Why are the wick and tallow ana all spent to maintain the light of the candle ? 

Prud. To shoAV that body and soul and all should be at the service of and spend 
themselves to maintain in good condition that grace of God that is in tis. 

Mat. Why doth the pelican pierce her own breast Avith her bill? 

Prud. To nourish her young ones with her blood; and thereby to show that Christ 
the Blessed so loved his young, his people, as to save them from death hy his uiood. 

Mat. What may one learn by hearing the cock to crow? 

Prud. Learn to remember Peter's sin and Peter's rej)entanee. The cock's crowing 
shows also that day is coming on ; let then the crowing of the cock put thee in mind of 
that last and terrible day of judgment. 

Now about this time their month was out; wherefore they signified to those of the 
house that it was convenient for them to be up and be going. Then said Joseph to his 
mother, It is proper that you forget not to send to the house of Mr. Interpreter to pray 
him to grant that Mr. Greatheart should be sent unto us that he may be our conductor 
for the rest of the way. Good boy, said she, I had almost forgot. So he drew up a pe- 
titioDj and prayed Mr, Watchful, the porter, to send it by some fit man to her good 



THE pilgrim's rROGP.ESS. 05 

friend Mr. Interpreter ; who, when it was come, and he had seen the contents of the pe- 
tition, said to the messenger, Go tell them tliat 1 will send him. 

When tlie family where Christiana was saw that they h;d a purpose to go forward, 
they called the whole house together to giv-e thanks to their king for sending of them 
such profitable guests as these. Which done, they said unto Christiana, And shall we 
not show thee something, as our custom is to do to pilgrims, on which thou mayest med- 
itate when thou art upon the way? So they took Christiana, her children, and Mercy 
into the closet and showed them one of the apples that Eve ate of, and that she also did 
give to her husband, and that for the eating of which they were both turned out of Para- 
dise; and asked her, What she thought that was? Then Christiana said. It is food or 
poison, I know not which. So they opened the matter to her, and she held up her hands 
and wondered. (Gen. iii. 1-6; Rom. vii. 24.) 

Then they had her to a place and showed her Jacob's ladder. Now at that time there 
were some angels ascending upon it. So Christiana looked and looked to see the 
angels go up ; so did the rest of the company. (Gen. xxviii. 12.) Then they were going 
into another place to show them something else, but James said to his mother. Pray 
bid them stay here a little longer, for this is a curious sight. So they turned again and 
stood feeding their eyes upon so pleasant a prospect. After this they had them into a 
place where did hang up a golden anchor. So they bid Christiana take it down; for, 
said they, you shall have it with you, for 'tis of absolute necessity that you should, that 
you may lay hold of that within the veil and stand steadfast in case you should meet 
with turbulent weather ; so they were glad thereof. (Joel i. 16; He'b. vi. 19.) Then 
they took them, and had them to the mount upon which Abraham our father offered up 
Isaac his son, and showed them the altar, the wood, the fire, and the knife ; for they re- 
main to be seen to this very day. When they had seen it they held up their hands and 
blessed themselves, and said, Oh, what a man for love to his Master, and for denial to 
himself, was Abraham ! 

After they had showed them all these things. Prudence took them into a dining-room 
where stood a pair of excellent virginals; so she played upon them, and turned what 
she had showed them into tais excellent song, saying* 

Eve's apple we have showed you : 

Oi that be you aware; 
Y^ u have seen Jacob's ladder too, 

Upon which angels are. 

An anchor you received have ; 

But let not these suffice, 
Until with Abra'm you have gave, 
Youi- best a sacrifice. 

Now, about this time one knocked at the door; so the Porter opened, and, behoid, 
Mr. Greatheart was there. But when he was come in wuat joy was there ; for it camb 
now^ afresh again into their minds how but a while ago he had slian old Grim Bloody- 
man the giant, and had delivered them from the lions. 

Then said Mr. Great-heart to Christiana and to Mercy, My Lord has sent each of you 
a bottle of wine, and also some parched corn, together with a couple of pomegranates ; 
he has also sent the boys some figs and raisins; to refresh you in your way. 

Then they addressed themselves to their journey; and Prudence and Piety went 
along with them. When they came to the gate Christiana asked the Porter if any of 
late went by? He said. No, only one, some time since, who also told me that of late 
there had been a great robbery committed on the king^s highway, as you ;.o; but, said 
he, the thieves are taken, and will shortly be tried for their lives. *Then Christiana 
and Mercy were afraid ; but Matthew said, Mother, fear nothing, as long as Mr. Great- 
heart is to go with us, and to be our conductor. 

Then said Christiana to the Porter, Sir, I am much obliged to you for all the kindnesses 
that you have showed to me since I came hither: and also for that you have been so 
loving and kind to my children. I know not how to gratify your kindness; where- 
fore, pray, as a token of my respect to you, accept of this small mite. So she put a gold 
angel in his hand ; and he made a low obeisance, and said. Let thy garments be always 
white, and let thy head want no ointment. Let Mercy live and not die, and let not her 
works be few. And to the boys he said. Do you fly youthful lusts and follow after god- 
liness with them that are grave and wise ; so shall you put gladness into your mother's 



00 THB pilgrim's PROGRESS. 

heart and obtain praise of all that are sober-minded. So they thanked the Porter and 
departed. 



THE FIFTH STAGE. 

Now, I saw in my dream thai; they went forward until they were come to the brow of 
the hill, where Piety, bethinking herself, cried out, Alas! I have forgot what I intend- 
ed to bestow upon Christiana and her companions; I will go back and fetch it. So she 
ran and fetched it. While she was gone, Christiana thought she heard in a grove, a 
little way bflf on the right hand, a most curious melodious note, with words much like 
these: 

Through all thy life thy favor is 

So frankly show'd to me, 
That in thy house forevermore, 
My dwelling-place shall be. 

And listening still, she thought she heard another answer it, saying. 

For why ? The Lord our God is good ; 

HU mercy is forever sure ; 
His trui h at all times firmly stood, 

And shall irom age to age endure. 

So Christiana asked Prudence who it was that made those curious notes. They ine 
said she, our country birds ; they sing these notes but seldom, except it be at thesprmg 
when the flowers appear, and the sun shines warm, and then you may hear them all day 
long. I often, said she, go out to hear them; we also ofttimes keep them tame in our 
house. They are very fine company for us when we are melancholy; also they make 
the woods, and groves, and solitary places, places desirous to be in. (Song ii. 11, 12.) 

By this time Piety was come again, so she said to Christiana, Look here, I have 
brought thee a scheme of all those things that thou hast seen at our house, upon which 
thou mayest look when thou findest thyself forgetful, and call those things again to re- 
membrance for thy edification and comfort. 

Now they began to go down the hill into the valley of Humiliation. It was a steep 
bill, and the way was slippery; but they were very careful; so they got down pretty 
well. When they were down in the valley. Piety said to Christiana, This is the place 
where Christian, your husband, met with the foul fiend Apollyon, and where they had 
that dreadful fight that they had; I know you cannot but have heard thereof. But be 
of good courage ; as long as you have here Mr. Great-heart to be your guide and con- 
ductor, we hope you will fare the better. So when these two had committed the pil- 
grims unto the conduct of their guide, he went forward and they went after. 

Then said Mr. Great-heart, We need not be so afraid of this valley, for there is noth- 
ing to hurt us unless we procure it to ourselves. It is true. Christian did here meet 
Apollyon, with whom he also had a sore combat; but that fray was the fruit of those 
slips that he got in his going down the hill ; for they that get slips there must look for 
combats here. And hence it is that this valley has got so hard a name. For the com- 
mon people, when they hear that some frightful thing has befallen such a one, in such 
a place, are of opinion that that place is haunted with some foul fiend or evil spir.t; 
when, alas I it is for the fruit of their own doing that such things do befall them there. 

This valley of Humiliation is of itseK as fruitful a place as any the crow^ flies over ; 
and I am persuaded, if we could hit upon it, we might find somewhere hereabouts 
something that might give us an account why Christian was so hardly beset in this place. 

Then said James to his mother, Lo, yonder stands a pillar, and it looks as if some- 
thing was written thereon ; let us go and see what it is. So they went and found there 
written, " Let Christian's slips, before he came hither, and the battles that he met with 
in this place, be a warning to those that come after." 

Lo, said their guide, did not I tell you that there wassomethinghereabouts that would 
give intimation of the reason why Christian was so hard beset in this place ? Then, 
turning himself to Christiana, he said. No disparagement to Christian more than to any 
others whose hap and lot it was. For it is easier going up than down this hill, and that 
can be said but of few hills in all these parts of the world. But we will leave the good 
man, he is at rest, he also had a brave victory over his enemy; let him grant that 
dwelleth above that we fare not worse, when we come to be tried, than he. 




The Land of Bevlau.— Page 125. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 97 

But ^ve will come again to this valley of Humiliation. It is the best and most fruitful 
piece of ground in all these parts. It is fat ground; and as you see, consisteth much in 
meadows ; and if a man was to come here in the summer time, as we do now, if he 
knew not anything before thereof, and if he also delighted himself in the sight of his 
eyes, he might see that which would be delightful to him. Behold how green this val- 
ley is; also how beautiful with lilies. (Song ii. 1.) I have known many laboring men 
that have got good estates in this valley of Humiliation; (for ''God resisteth the proud, 
])ut giveth grace to the humble" (James iv. (>; I. Pet. v. 5); for indeed it isa very fruit- 
ful soil, and doth bring forth by liandfuls. S^me also have wished that the next way 
to their Father's house were here, that they might be troubled no more with either hills 
or mountains to go over; but the way w the way, and there is an end. 

Now, as they were going along, and talking they spied a boy feeding his father's 
sheep. The boy was in very mean clothes, but of a fresh and well-favored counte- 
nance; and as he sat by himself, he sung. Hark, said Mr. Great-heart, to what the 
shepherd's boy sayeth ; so they hearkened, and he said, 

IT-^ that is down, need fear no fall, 

He that is low, no pride; 
Up that is humble, ever shall 

Have God to be his guide. 

I am content with wliat I have, 

Little be it or much ; 
AnJ, Lord, con entment still I crave, 

Because thou savest such. 

Fulners to such a-hurden is, 

That go on pilgrimage; 
Here l.ttle, and hereaiter bliss, 

Is best from age to age. 

— (Heb. xiii. 5.) 

Then said their guide, Do you hear him? I will dare to say, this boy lives a merrier 
life, and wears more of that herb callled heart'' s-ease in his bosom, than he that is clad 
in silk and velvet. But Ave will proceed in our discourse. ^ 

In this valley our Lord formerly had his country-house ; he loved much to be here; 
he loved also to walk these mea"Hows, for he found the air was pleasant. Beside, here 
a man shall be free from the noise, and from the hurryings of this life ; all states are full 
of noise and confusion ; only the valley of Humiliation is that empty and solitary 
place. Here a man shall not be so let and hindered in his contemplation as in other 
places he is apt to be. This is a valley that nobody walks in but those that love a pil- 
grim's life. And though Christian had the hard hap to meet here with Apollyon, and 
to enter with him in a brisk encounter; yet I must tell you, that in former times men 
have met with angels here, have found pearls here, and have in this place found the 
words of life. (Hos. xii. 4, 5.) 

Did I say our Lord had here in former days his country-house, and that he loved 
here to walk? I will add, in this place, and to the people that live and trace these 
grounds, he has left a yearly revenue to be faithfully paid them at certain seasons for 
their maintenance by the way, and for their further encouragement to go on in their 
pilgrima>,^e. 

Now, as they went on, Samuel said to Mr. Great-heart, Sir, I perceive that in this val- 
ley my father and Apollyon had their battle ; but whereabout was the fight ? for I per- 
ceive this valley is large. 

Great. Your father had the battle with Apollyon at a place yonder before us in a 
narrow passage, just beyond Forgetful Green. And, indeed, that place is the most 
dangerous place in all these parts ; for if at any time pilgrims meet with any brunt, it 
is when they forget what favors they have received, and how unworthy tiiey are of 
them. This is the place also where others have been hard put to it. * But more of 
the place when we are come to it; for I persuade myself that to this day there 
remains either some sign of the battle, or some monument to testify that such a battle 
there was tousfht. 

Then said Mercy, I think I am as well in this valley as I havebeen any where else it 
all our journey; the place, methinks, suits with my spirit. I love to be in such places 
where there is no rattling with coaches, no nimoling with wheels; methinks, here one 
may, without much molestation, be thinkii g wnat he is, Avhere he came, what he has 

4 



98 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

done, and to what the King has called him; here one may think, and break at heart, 
and melt in one*s spirit, until one's eyes become "as the fish-pools of Heshbon." They 
that go rightly through this^" valley of Baca, make it a well; the rain,'' that God sends 
down from heaven upon them that are here, "also filleth the pools.'' This valley is 
that from whence also the King will give to his their vineyards (Song vii. 4; Psalm 
Ixxxiv. 5-7 ; Hos. ii. 15); and they that go through it shall sing as Christian did, for all 
he met with Apollyon. 

'Tis true, said their guide ; I have gone through this valley many a time, and never 
was better than when here. I have also been a conductor to several pilgrims, and they 
have confessed the same, "To this man will I look (sayeth the King), even to him 
iliat is poor, and of a contrite spirit, and that trembleth at my word." 

Now, they were come to the place where the afore-mentioned battle was fought. Then 
said the guide to Christiana, her children, and Mercy, This is the place; on this ground 
Cliristian stood, and up there came Apollyon against him ; and, look, did I not tell you, 
here is some of your husband's blood upon these stones to this day! Behold, also, how 
iiere and there are yet to be seen upon the place some of the shivers of Apollyon's 
broken darts; see also, how they did beat the ground with their feet as they fought, to 
make good their places against each other; how also, with their by-blows, they did 
split the very stones in pieces ; verily Christian did here play the man, and showed 
himself as stout as Hercules could, had he been here, even he himself. When Apol- 
lyon was beat, he made his retreat to the next valley, that is called the valley of the 
Shadow of Death, unto which we shall come anon. 

Lo, yonder also stands a monument, on which is engraven this battle, and Christian's 
victory; to his fame throughout all ages. So because it stood just on the wayside be- 
fore them, the^ stepped to it, and read the writing, which, word for word was this: — 

Hard by here was a battle fought. 

Most strange, and yet most true; 
Christian and Apollyon sought 

Each other to subdue. 

The man so bravely play'd the man, 
He made the fiend to fly ; 
• Of which a monument 1 stand, 

The same to testify. 

When they had passed by this place, they came upon the borders of the Shadow of 
Death, and this valley was longer than the other, a place also most strangely haunted 
with evil things, as many are able to testify; but these women and children went the 
better through it, because they had daylight, and because Mr. Great-heart was their 
conductor. 

When they were entered upon this valley, they thought they heard a groaning, as of 
dying men — a very great groaning. They thought also that they did hear words of 
lamentation, spoken as of some in extreme torment. These things made the boys to 
quake, the women also looked pale and wan ; but their guide bid them be of good 
comfort. 

So they went on little further, and they thought that they felt the ground begin to 
shake under them, as if some hollow lAaae was there; they heard also a kind of hiss- 
ing, as of serpents, but nothing as yet appeared. Then said the boys, " Are we not 
yet at the end of this doleful place ? " But the guide also bid them be of good courage, 
and look well to their feet, lest haply, said he, you be taken in some snare. 

Now James began to be sick, but 1 think the cause thereof was fear; so his mother 
gave him some of that glass of spirits that had been given her at the Interpreter's 
jiouse, and three of the pills th;it Mr. Skill had prepared, and the bo^^ began to revive. 
Thus they went on, till they came to about the middle of the valley, and then Christ- 
iana said, Methinks I see something yonder upon the road before us; a thing of a shape 
such as I have not seen. Then said Joseph, Mother, what is it ? An ugly thing child, 
an ugly thing, said she. But, mother, what is it like ? said he. 'Tis like I cannot tell 
what, said she. And now it is but a little way oflf. Then said she. It is nigh. 

Well, said Mr. Great-heart, let them that are most afraid, keep close to me. So the 
fiend came on, and the'conductor met it; but when it was just come to him, it vanished 
to all their sights. Then remembered they what had been said some time ago, " Re- 
sist the devil, and he will fiee from you." 

They went therefore on, as being a little refreshed; but they had not gone far, before 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 99 

Mercy, looking behind her, saw, as she thought, something most like a lion, and it 
came at a great padding pace after; and it had a hollow voice of roaring; and at every 
roar it gave it made the valley echo, and all their hearts to ache, save the heart of him 
that was their guide. So it came up ; and Mr. Great-heart went behind, aud put the 
pilgrims all before him. The lion also came on apace, and Mr. Great-heart addressed 
himself to give him battle. But when he saw that it was determined that resistance 
should be made, he also drew back, and came no further. (I. Pet. v. 9.) 

Then they went on again, and their conductor did go before them, till they came at a 
place where was cast up a pit the whole breadth of the way ; and, before they could be 
prepared to go over that, a great mist and a darkness fell upon them, so thattiiey could 
not see. Then said the pilgrims, Alas! whatnoAV shall we do? But their guide nuide 
answer, Fear not, stand still, and see what an end will be put to this also. So they 
stayed there, because their path was marred. They then also thought that they did 
hear more apparently the noise and rushing of the enemies; the fire also and smoke of 
the pit was much easier to be discerned. Then said Christiana to Mercy, Now I see 
what my poor husband went through; I have heard much of this place, but I never 
was here afore now. Poor man! he went here all alone in the night; he had night 
almost quite through the way; also these fiends were busy about him, as if they 
would have torn him in pieces. Many have spoken of it, but none can tell what the 
valley of the Shadow of Death should mean until they come in themselves. " The 
heart knoweth its own bitterness ; and a stranger intermeddleth not with its joy." To 
be here is a fearful thing. 

Great. This is like doing " business in great waters," or like going down into the 
deep ; this is like being in the heart of the sea, and like going down to the bottoms of 
the mountains; now it seems as if the earth, with its bars, were about us forever. 
" But let them that walk in darkness, and have no light, trust in the name of the Lord, 
and stay upon their God." For my part, as I have told you already, I have gone often 
through this valley ; and have been much harder put to it than now I am ; and yet you 
see I am alive. I would not boast, for that I am not my own savior. But I trust we 
:*hall have a good deliverance. Come, let us pray for light to Him that can lighten our 
darkness, and that can rebuke, not only these, but all the ^atans in hell. 

So they cried and prayed, and God sent light and deliverance; for there was now no 
let in their way, no, not tliere where but now they were stopped with a pit. Yet they were 
not got through the valley; so they went on still, and beheld great stinks and loath- 
some smells, to the great annoyance of them. Then said Mercy to Christiana, There 
is no such pleasure in being here as at the gate, or at the Interpreter's, or at the house 
where we lay last. 

Oh, but, said one of the boys, it is not so bad to go through here, as it is to abide here 
always ; and, for aught I know, one reason why we must go this way to the house pre- 
pared for us, is, that our home might be made the sweeter to us. 

Well said, Samuel, quoth the guide ; thou hast now spoke like a man. — Why, if ever 
I get out here again, said the boy, I think I shall prize light and good way better than 
ever I did in all my life. Then >aid the guide, We shall be out by and by. 

So on they went^ and Joseph said. Cannot we see to the end of this valley as yet? 
Then said the guide. Look to your feet, for we shall presently be among the snares. S(? 
they looked to tlieir feet, and went on ; but they were troubled much witn tiie snares. 
Now, when they were come among the snares, they spied a man cast into the ditch on 
the left hand, with his flesh all rent and torn. Then said the guide. That is one Heed- 
less, that was going this way ; he has lain there a great wnile. There was one Take-heed 
with him when he was taken and slain, but he escaped their hands. You cannot ima- 
gine how many are killed hereabouts, and yet men are so foolishly venturous as to set 
out lightly on pilgrimage, and to come without a guide. Poor Christian, it was a 
wonder that he here escaped! But he was beloved of his God; also he had a good 
heart of his own, or else he could never have done it. 

Now they drew toward the end of this way; and just there, where Christian had seen 
the cave when he went by, out thence came forth Maul, a giant. This Maul did use to 
spoil young pilgrims with sophistry; and he called Great-heart by his name, and said 
unto him, How many times have you been forbidden to do these things ? Then, said Mr. 
Great-heart, What things ? What things ! quoth the giant; you know what things; but 
I will put an end to your trade. But pray, said Mr. Great-heart, before we fail to it, 
let us understand wherefore we must fight. (Now the women and children stood 
trembling, and knew not what to do.) Quoth the giant, You rob the country, and rob 



100 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

it with the worst of thefts. These are but generals, said Mr. Great-heart; come to par- 
ticulars, man. 

Then said the giant. Thou practicest the craft of a kidnapper; thou gatherest up 
women and children, and carriest them into a strange country, to the weakeninc? of my 
master's kinsfdom. But now Great-heart replied, I am a servant of the God of heaven ; 
my business is to persuade sinners to repentance. I am comniande ( to do my en- 
deavors to turn men, women, and children ^' from darkness to light, and from the power 
of Satan unto God;" and if this be indeed the ground of thy quarrel, let us fall to it as 
soon as thou wilt. 

Then the giant came up, and Mr. Great-heart went to meet him ; and, as he went, he 
drew his sword, but the giant had a club. So, without more ado, they fell to it, and at 
the first blow the giant struck Mr. Great-heart down upon one of his knees; wiih that 
the women and ciiildren cried out; so Mr. Great-heart, recovering himselt, laid about 
him in full lusty manner, and gave the giant a wound in his arm; thus he fougiit for 
the space of an hour to that height of heat that the breath came out of the giant's 
nostril as the heat doth outof a boiling caldron. 

Then they sat down to rest them, but Mr. Great-heart betook hims If to prayer; also 
the women and children did nothing but sigh and cry all the time that the battle did 
last. 

When they had rested them, and taken breath, they both fell to it again; and Mr. 
Great-hearr, with a blow, fetched the giant down to the ground. Nay, liold, let me re- 
cover, quoth he; so Mr. Great-heart fairly let him get up. So to it they went again, and 
the giant missed btit little of all-to-breaking Mr. Great-heart's sktili with his ciub. 

Mr. Greatheart seeing that, runs to him m the full heart of his spirit, and pierceth 
him under the fifth rib ; with that the giant began to faint, and could hold up his club 
no longer. Then Mr. Great-heart seconded his blow, and smote the head of the giant 
from his shoulders. Tnen the women and children rejoiced, and Mr. Great-heart also 
praised God for the deliverance he nad wrought. 

Wh^n this was done, the. amongst them erected a pillar, and fastened the giant's 
head thereon, and wrote under it, in letters that passengers might read, 

He that did wear this head was one 

That pilgrims did misuse ; 
He stopped the.r way, he spared none, 

But dil them ?1I abuse; 
Until that I, G seat-heart, arose, 

The pilgrims' guide lo be 
Uuti. that 1 did h.m oppose, 

Tiiat was their enemy. 



THE SIXTH STAGE. 

Now I saw that they went on to the ascent that was a little way ofi cast up to be a 
prospect for pilgrims (and that was the place trom whence Cnristian had tiie first siuht 
of Faithful, his brother). Wherefore here they sat down and rented; they also li.re 
did eat and drink, and make merry, for that they had gotten deliverance from so dan- 
gerous an enemy. As they sat thus and did eat, Christiana asked the guide if ho had 
caught no hurt m the batt.e? Ihen said Mr. Great-heart, No, save a little on my flesh; 
yet that also shall be so far from being to my detriment that it is at pre.^en a proof of 
my love to my master and you ; and snail be a means, by grace, to increase my reward 
at last. 

Chr. But was you not afraid, good sir, when you saw him come witl^ his club? 

It is my duty, said he, to mistrust my own ability, that I may have reliance .on Inm 
that is stronger than all. (II. Cor. iv.) 

Chr. But what did you think when he fetched you down to the ground at the 
first blow? 

Why, I thought, quoth he, that so my master himself was served; and yet he it vrns 
that conquered at last. 

Matt. When you all have thought what you please, I think God has been wonder- 
fully good unto us, both in bringing us out of this valley, and in delivering ns out of 
the hand of this enemy; for my part, I see no reason why we should distrust our God 
any more, since he has now, and in such a place as this, given us such testimony of his 
iove. 



THE pilgrim's PROGRESS 101 

Then they got up and went forward. Now, a little before them stood an oak; and 
nndpr it, when they came to it, they found an old pilgrim fast asleep; they knew that 
he was a pilgrim by his clothes, and liis staff', and his crirdle. 

So the guide, Mr. Great-heart, awaked him ; and the old gentleman, as he lifted up 
his eyes, cried out. What's the matter? Who are you, an i what is you business here? 

Great. Come, man, be not so hot, here are none hut friends. Yet tlie old man 
gets up and stands upon his eruard, and will know of them what they are. Then said 
the guide, My name is Great-heart; I am the guide of these pilgrims, that are going 
to the celestial country. 

Then said Mr. Honest, I cryyour mercy. I feared thatyou had been of the company 
of those that some time ago did rob Little-faith of his money; but now I look better 
about me I perceive you are honest people. 

Great. Why, what w^ould or could you have done to have helped yourself if, in- 
deed, we had been of that company? 

Hon. Done! why I would have fought as long as breath had been in me; and had 
I so done, I am sure you could never have given me the worst on't; for a Christian 
can never be overcome, unless he shall yield of himself. 

Great. Well said, father Honest, quoth the guide; for by this I know that thou 
art a cock of the right kind, for thou hast said the truth. 

Hon. And by this also I know that thou knowest what true pilgrimage is; for all 
others do think that we are the soonest overcome of any. 

Great. W^ll, now we are so happily met, pray let me crave your name, and the 
name of the place you come from? 

Hon. My name I cannot; but I came from the town of Stupidity; it lieth about 
four degrees beyond the city of Destruction. 

Great Oh! are vou that countryman? Then I deem I have half a guess of you; 
your name is Old Honesty, is it not? 

So the old gentleman blushed and said. Not honesty in the abstract, but Honest is 
my* name, and I wish that jny nature may agree to what I am called. 

But, sir, said the old gentleman, how could you guess that I am such a man, sincB 
I came from such a place? 

Great. I had heard of you before, by my master; for he knows all thinofs that are 
done on this earth; but I have often wondered that any should come from your place, 
for your town is worse than is the city of Destruction itself. 

Hon. Yes, we lie more off from the sun, and so are more cold and senseless; but 
was a man in a mountain of ice, yet if the Sun of Righteousness will arise upon him, 
his frozen heart shall feel a thaw. And thus it hath been with me. 

Great. I believe it, father Honest, I believe it; for 1 know the thing is true. 

Then the old gentleman saluted all the pilgrims with a holy kiss of charity, and 
asked them of their names, and how they had fared since they had set out on their 
pilgrimage. 

Then said Christiana, ''My name, I suppose, you have heard of; good Christian 
was my husband, and these four are his children.'' But can you think how the old 
gentleman was taken when she told him who she w is! He skipped, he smiled, he 
blessed them Avith a thousand good wishes; sayine, I have heard much of your hus- 
band, and of his travels and wars, which he underwent in his days. Be it spoken to 
your comfoit, the name of your husband* rings all over these ]>arts of the world: his 
faith, his courage, his enduring, and his sincerity under all, have made his name famous. 

Then he turned to the boys, and asked of them their names, which they told him. 
And then said he unto them, Matthew, be thou like Matthew the publican, not in vice 
but in virtue. Samuel, said he, be thou like Samuel the prophet, a man of faith and 
prayer. Joseph, said he, be thou like Joseph in Potiphar's house, chaste, and one 
that flies from temptation. And James, be thou like James the Just, and like James 
the brother of our Lord. (Matt. X. 3; Psalm xcix., 6; Gen. xxxix. ; Acts i. 13, 14.) 
Then they told him of Mercy, and how she had left her town and her kindred to come 
along with Christiana and with her sons. At that the honest old man said, Mercy 
is thy name, by mercy shalt thou be sustained and carried through all those difficul- 
ties that shall assault thee in thy way, till thou shalt come thither where thou shalt 
look the Fountain of mercy in the face with comfort. All this, while the guide, Mr. 
Great-heart, was very well pleased, and smiled upon his companions. 

Now, as they walked along together, the guide asked the old gentleman if he did 
not know one Mr. Fearing, that came on pilgrimage out of his parts. 



102 THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. 

Yes, veiy well, said he. ' He was a man that had the root of the matter in him, but 
he was one of the most troublesome pilgrims that ever I met with in all my days. 

Great. I perceive you knew him, for you have given a very right character of 
him. 

Hon. Knew him! I was a great companion of his; I was with him most an 
end ; when he first began to think upon what would come upon us hereafter I was 
with him. 

Great. I was his guide from my master's house to the gates of the Celestial City. 

Hon. Then you knew him to be a troublesome one. 

Great. I did so ; but I could very well bear it ; for men of my calling are often- 
times intrusted with the conduct of such as he was. 

Hon. AVhy, then, pray let us hear a little of him, and how he managed himself un- 
der your conduct. 

Great. "Why, he was always afraid that he should come short of whither he had 
a desire to go. Everything frightened him that he heard anybody {-peak of, if it had 
but the least appearance of opposition in it. I learned that he lay roaring at the slough 
of Despond for above a month together; nor durst he, for all he saw several go over be- 
fore him, venture, thoutrh theymany of them ottered to lend him their hanus. He would 
not go back again neither. The Celestial City — he said he should die if he came not 
to it; and yet he was dejected at every difficulty, and stumbled at every straw that any- 
body cast in his way. Well, after he had lain at the slough of Despond a great while, 
as I have told you, one sunshiny morning, I don't know how, he ventured, and so got 
over; but when he was over he would scarce believe it. He had, I think, a slough of 
Despond in his mind, a slough that he carried everywhere with him, or else he could 
never have been as he was. So he came up to the gate, you know what I mean, that 
stands at the head of this way, and there also he stood a great while before he would 
venture to knock. When the gate was opened, he would give back and give place to 
others, and say that he was not worthy. For, for all he got before some to the gate, 
yet many of them went in be lore him. There the poor man would stand shaking and 
sjirinking; I dare say it would have pitied one's heart to ha\'ie seen him. Nor would he 
go back again. At last he took the hammer, that hanged on the gate, in his hand, and 
gave a small rap or two; then one opened to him, but he shrunk back as before. He 
that opened stepped out after him, and said, Thou trembling one, what Avantest thou? 
With that he fell down to the ground. He that spoke to him wondered to see him so 
faint, so he said to him. Peace be to thee ; up, for I have set open the door to thee ; 
come in, for thou art blessed. With that he got up, aud went in trembling; and when 
that he was in, he was ashamed to show his face. Well, after he had been entertained 
there a while, as you know how the manner is, he was bid go on his way, and also told 
the way he should take. So he went on till he came to our house; but as he behaved 
himself at the gate, so he did at my master the Interpreter's door. He lay thereabout 
in the cold a good while before he would venture to call; yet he would not go back; 
and the nights were long and cold then. Nay, he had a note of the necessity in his 
bosom to my master to receive him, and grant him the comfort of his house, and also 
to allow him a stout and valiant conductor, because he was himself .so chicken-hearted 
a man ; and yet, for all that, he was afraid to call at the door. ^So he lay up and down 
thereabouts, till, poor man, he was almost starved; yea, so great was his dejection that 
Though he saw several others for knocking get in, yet he was afraid to venture. At 
last, I think, I looked out of the window, and perceiving a man to be up and down 
about the door, I went out to him and asked him what he was. But, poor man, the wa- 
ter stood in his eyes; so I perceived what he wanted. I went therefore in, and told it 
in the house, and we showed the thing to our Lord ; so he sent me out again to entreat 
him to come in ; but I dare say I had hard work to do it. At last he came in ; and I 
will say that for my Lord, he carried it wonderfully lovingly to him. There were but a 
few good bits at the table, but some of it was laid upon his trencher. Then he pre- 
sented the note ; and my Lord looked therein, and said his desire should be granted. 
So when he had been there a good while he seemed to get some heart, and to be a lit- 
tle more comfortable. For my master, you must know, is one of very tender bowels, 
especially to them that are afraid ; wherefore he carried it so toward him as might 
tend most to his encouragement. Well, when he had a sight of the things of the place 
and was ready to take his journey to the city, my Lord, as he did to Ciiristian before, 
gave him a bottle of spirits and some comfortable things to eat. Thus we set forward, 
and I went before bim ; but the man was but of few words, only he would sigh aloud. 



THE PILGKIM'S PROGRESS. lOl^ 

When we were come to where the three fellows were hang:ed, he said tliat he doubted 
that that would be his end also. Only he seemed sjlad when he saw the cross and the 
sepulcher. There I confess he desired to stay a little to look; and he seemed for a 
while after to be a little cheery. When he came to the hill of Difficulty he made no 
stick at that, nor did he much fear the lions ; for you must know that his trouble was 
not about such things as these; his fe;ir was about Ins acceptance at last. 

I s:ot him in at the house of Beautiful, I think before he was willing. Also when he 
was in, I brought him acquainted with the damsels of the place; but he was ashamed 
to make himse'f much in co;:npany. He desired much to be alone; yet he always 
loved good talk, au.i often would get behind the screen to hear it. He also loved much 
to see ancient things, and to be pondering them in his mind. He told me afterwar<l 
that he loved to be in those two houses from which he came last; to wit, at the Gate, 
and that of the Interpreter, but that he durst not be so bold as to ask. 

When we went also from the house of Beautiful, down the hill, into the valley of 
Ifumiliation, he went down as well as ever I saw a man in my life; for he cared not 
Jiow mean he was, so he might be happy at last. Yea, I think there was a kind of sym- 
pathy betwixt that valley and him ; for I never saw him better in all his pilgrimage than 
he was in that valley. 

Here he would lie down, embrace the ground, and kiss the very flowers that grew in 
this valley. (Lam. iii. 27-29.) He would now be up every morning by break of day, 
tracing and walking to and fro in the valley. 

But when he was come to the entrance of the valley of the Shadow of Death I 
thought I should have lost my man ; not for that he had any inclination to go back — 
that he always abhorred — but he was ready to die for fear. Oh, the hobgoblins will 
have me! the hobgoblins will have me! cried he; and I could not beat him out on't. 
He made such a noise and such an outcry here that, had they but heard him, it was 
enough to encourage them to come and fall upon us. 

But this I took very great notice of, that this valley was as quiet when we went 
throu'jfh it as ever I knew it before or since. I suppose those enemies here had now a 
special checj?: from our Lord, and a command not to meddle until Mr. Fearing had 
passed over it. 

It would be too tedious to tell you of all ; we will, therefore, only mention a passage or 
two more. When he was come to Vanity Fair I thought he would have fought with all the 
men in the fair. I feared there we should have been both knocked on the head, so hot 
was he against their fooleries. Upon the Enchanted Ground he was very wakeful; but 
when he was come at the river where was no bridge, there again he was in a heavy case. 
Now, now, he said, he should be drowned for ever, and so never see that face with com- 
fort that he had come so many miles to behold. 

And here, also, I took notice of what Avas very remarkable : the water of that river 
was lower at this time than ever I saw it in all my life ; so he went over, at last, not 
much above wetshod. When he was going up to the gate I began to take leave of him, 
and to wish him a good reception above. 80 he said, I shall ! I shall ! Then parted we 
asunder and I saw him no more. 

Hon. Then, it seems, he was well at last? 

Great. Yes, yes ; I never had doubt about him. He was a man o. a choice spirit- 
only he was always kept very low, and that made his life so burdensome to himself and 
so troublesome to others. (Psalms Ixxxviii.) He was, above many, tender of sin; he 
was so afraid of doing injuries to others that he often would deny himself of that which 
was lawful, because he would not ofiend. (Rom. xiv. 21 ; I. Cor. viii. 13.) 

Hon. But what should be the reason that such a good man should be all his days so 
much in the dark? 

Great. There are two sorts of reasons for it. One is, the wise God will have it so; 
some must pipe, and some must weep. (Matt. xi. 16, 17.) Now, Mr. Fearing was one 
that played upon the bass. He and his fellows sound the sackbut, whose notes are 
more doleful than the notes of other music are— though, indeed, some say the bass is 
the ground of music ; and, for my part, I care not at all for that profession that begins 
not in heaviness of mind. The first string that the musician usuallv touches is the bass, 
when he intends to put all in tune ; God also plays upon this string first when he sets 
the soul in tune for himself. Only there was the imperfection of Mr. Fearing— he could 
play upon no other music but this till toward his latter end. 

I make bold to talk thus metaphorically for the ripening of the wits of young readers, 
and because, in the book of the Eevelation, the saints are compared to a company of 



104 TLIE riLGEIM'S PROGRESS. 

inusiciiins, that play ii})oii their trumpets and harps and sing their songs before the 
throne. (Rev. \n.; xiv. 2, 3.) 

Hon. He was a very zealous man, as one may see by that relation which you have given 
of him. Difficulties, lions or Vanity Fair he feared not at all ; it was only sin, death 
and hell tiiat were to him a terror, because he had some doubts about his interest in 
that celestial country. 

Great. You say right; those were the things that were his troublers; and they, as 
you have well observed, arose from the w^eakness of his mind thereabout, not from 
weakness of spirit as to the practical part of a pilgrim's life. 1 dare believe that, as the 
proverb is, he could have bit a firebrand, had ic stood in his way ; but the things wun 
which he was 02)})ressed no man ever yet could shake off with ease. 

Then said Christiana, This relation of Mr. Fearing has done me good. I thought no- 
body had been like me ; but I see there was some semblance betwixt this good man and 
me — only we differed in two things: his troubles were so great that they broke out, but 
mine I kept within; his also lay so hard upon him they made him t.iat he could not 
knock at the houses provided for entertainment, but my trouble was always such as 
made me knock the louder. 

Mer. If 1 might also speak my heart I must say that someHiing of him has also 
dwelt in me; for 1 have ever been more afraid of the lake, and the loss of a place in 
paradise, than I have been of the loss of other things. Oh, thought I, may 1 have tlie 
happineso to have a habitation there! ^Tis enough, though I part \vith all the world to 
win it. 

Then said Matthew, Fear was one thing that made me think that I was far from hav- 
ing that within me tiiat accompanies salvation. But if it was so with such a good man 
as he, why may it not also go well with me? 

No fears, no grace, said James. Though there is not always grace where there is the 
fear of hell, yet to be sure there is no grace where there is no fear of God. 

Great. Weil said, James, thou hast hit the mark ; for the fear of God is the begin- 
ning of wisdom, and to bj sure they that want the beginning have neither middle 
nor end. But we will here conclude our discourse of Mr. Fearing, after we have sent 
after him this farewell; 

AVell, Master Fearing, thou didst fear 

Thy God, and wast afiaid 
Of doing anything, while here, 

Thai would have thee boiiay'd 
And didst thou fear the lake and pit? 

Would oihers do so too I 
For, as tor them that want thy wit, 

They do themselves undo. 

Now, I saw that they still went on in their talk. For, after Mr. Great-heart had made 
an end with Mr. Fea.in.^, Mr. Honest began to tell them of another, but his name was 
Mr. Self-will. He pretended himself'to ue a pilgnm, said Mr. Honest, but I persuade 
myself ne never came in at tae gate that stands at the head of the way. 

Great. Had you ever any talk with him about it? 

Hon. Yes, more tiian once or twice; but he would always be Mke himself — self- 
willed. He neither cared lor man, nor argument, nor yet example; what his mind 
prompted him to, that he would do, and nothing else cotild lie be got to do. 

Great. Pray, what principles did he hold? lor I suppose you can tell. 

Hon. He held that a man might follow the vices as well as the virtues of the pil- 
grims; and that if he did both iie should be certainly saved. 

Great. How? If he had said it is possible tor the best to be guilty of the vices as 
well as partake of the virtues of pilgrims, he couid not much have been blametl — for, 
indeed, we are exempted from no vice a soluteiy, but on condition that we watcii an«l 
strive. But this, 1 perceive, is not the tiiiu'^; i.ut, if I understand you right, yuur 
meaning is that he was of opi.iion that it was allowable so to be. 

Hon. Ay, ay, so I mean, and so he believed ;.nd practiced. 

Great. But what grounds had lie lor his so saying? 

Hon. Why, he said ..e luul the S ri]>tures tor ins warrant. 

Great. Fi'ythee, Mr. Honest, present us with a few par iculars. 

Hon. S ) I will. He said to h ve to d ; wi.h other men's wives had been practiced 
by David, God's beloveil, and therefore he could do it. lie said to nave more Avomen 
than one was a thing that fcJolomon practiced, and thereiore he could do it. He said 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 105 

that S^rah and the srodly midwives of P^s^ypt lied, and so did saved Rahab, and therefore 
he could do it. He said that the disciples went, at the biddins^ of their Master, and 
took away the ownorN ass, and therefore he coiikl do so too. lie said that Jacob got 
tlie inheritance of iiis father in a way of guile and dissimulation, and therefore he could 
do so too. 

Grrat. High base, indeed! And are you sure he was of this opinion? 

Hon. I have heard him plead for it, bring scripture for it, bring arguments for it, 
etc. 

Great. An opinion that is not fit to be with any allowance in the world ! 

Hox. You must und rstand me rightly. He did not say that any m n might do 
tliis; but that they who had tlie virtues of those that did such things might also do the 
same. 

Grkat. But what more false than such a conclusion ? For this is as much as to say 
that, because good men heretofore have sinned of infirmity, therefore he had allowance 
to do it of a ])resumiituous mind ; or that if, because a child — by the blast of the wind, 
or for that it stumbled at a stone — fell down and defiled itself in the ni're, therefore he 
might wilfully lie down and wallow like a boar therein. Who could have thought that 
anyone could so far have been blinded by the power of lust? But what is written must 
be true: they ^'stumble at the word, beino: disobedient; whereunto tliey also were ap- 
pointed." (I. Pet. ii. S.) His supposing that such may have the godly men's virtues, 
wlio addict themselves to their vices, is also a delusion as strong as the other. 'Tis just 
as if the dog should s:iy, I have, or m(^^ have, the qualities of the child, because I lick 
up its stinking excrements. To eat u]) the sin of God's people (Hos. iv. 8), is no sign of 
one that is possessed with their virtues. Nor can I believe that one that is of this 
opinion can at ])resent have faith or love in him. But I know you have made some 
strong objections against him; pr'ythee, what can he say for himself? 

Hon. V/hy, he says to do this by way of opinion seems abundantly more lionest than 
to do it and yet hold contrary to it in opinion. 

Great. A very wicked answer. For, though to let loose the bridle to lusts while 
our opinions are against such things is bad, yet, to sin and plead a toleration so to do is 
v.orse; tiie one stumbles beholders accidentally, the other leads them into the snare, 

Hon. There are many of this man's mind, that have not this man's mouth ; and that 
makes going on pilgrimage of so little esteem as it is. * 

Great. You have said the truth, and it is to be lamented; but he that feareth the 
King of j)aradise shall come out of them all. 

Cur. There are strange opinions in the world. I know one that said it was time 
enough to repent when we come to die. 

Great. Such are not over-wise. That man would have been loth, might he have had 
a week to run twenty miles in his life, to have deferred his journey to the last hour of 
that week. 

Hon. You say right ; and yet the generality of them who count themselves pilgrims 
do indeed do thus. 1 am, as you see, an old man, and have been a traveler in this road 
many a day: and I have taken notice of many things. 

J have seen some that have set out as if they would drive all the world afore them, 
who yet have, in a few days, diedas they in the wilderness and so never got sight of the 
promised land. I l.ave seen some that have promised nothing at first setting out to be 
pilgrims, and that one would have thought could not have lived a day, +hat liave yet 
proved very good pilgrims. I have seen some who have run hastily forward that a.gain 
have, after a little time, run just as fast back again. I have seen some who have spoken 
very well of a pilgrim's life at first that, after a w^hile, have spoken as much against it. 
I have heard some, when they first set out for paradise, say positively there is such a 
place, who, when they have been almost there, have come back again and said there is 
uone. 1 have hearct some vaunt what they would do in case they should be opposed, 
ihat have, even at a false alarm, fled faith, the pilgrim's way and ail. 

Now, as tliey w^ere thus on their w^ay, there came one runnini,^ to meet them, and 
said, Gentlemen, a..d you of the weaker sort, if you love life shift for yourselves, for the 
robbers are before you. 

Then said Mr. Great-heart, They be the three that set upon Little-faith heretofore. 
Well, said he, we are ready for them. So they went on their way. Now, t.:ey looked 
at every turning ^yhen they hould have met with the villains ; but, whether they heard 
of Mr. Great-heart or whether they bad gome other game, they came not up to the pil- 
grims. 



106 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Christiana then wished for an inn, to refresh herself and her children, hecause they 
were weary. Then said Mr. Honest, there is one a little before ns, where a very honor- 
able disciple, one Gains, dwells. (Rom. xvi. 23.) So they all conchided to' turn in 
thither ; and the rather because the old gentleman gave him so good a report. When 
they came to the door they went in, not knocking, for folks use not to knock at the door 
of an inn. Then they called for the master of the house and he came to them. So they 
asked if they might lie there that night. 

Gaius. Yes, gentlemen, if you be true men ; for my house is for none but pilgrims. 
Then were Christiana, Mercy and the boys the more glad, for that the innkeeper was a 
lover of pilgrims. So they called for rooms, and he showed them one for Christiana 
and her children and ^lercy, and another for Mr. Great-heart and the old gentleman. 

Then said Mr. Great-heart, Good Gaius, what hast thou for supper? for these pilgrims 
have come far to-day and are weary. 

It is late, said Gaius, so we cannot conveniently go out to seek food ; but such as we 
have you shall be welcome to, if that will content. 

Great. We will be content with what thou hast in the house ; for, as much as 7 
have proved thee, thou art never destitute of that which is convenient. 

Then he went down and spake to the cook, whose name was Taste-that-which-is-good, 
to get ready supper for so many pilgrims. This done he comes up again, saying, Come, 
my good friends, you are welcome to me, and I am glad that I have a house to entertain 
you in ; and Avhile supper is making ready, if you please, let us entertain one another 
with some good discourse. So they all said. Content. 

Gaius. Then said Gaius, Whose wife is this aged matron? And whose daughter is 
this young damsel ? 

Great. This woman is the wife of one Christian, a pilgrim of former times; and 
these are his four children. The maid is one of her acquaintance, one that she hath 
persuaded to come with her on pilgrimage. The boys take all after their father, and 
covet to tread in his steps ; yea, if they do but see any place where the old pilgrim 
hath lain, or any print of his foot, it ministeretii joy to their hearts, and they covet to 
lie or tread in the same. 

Gaius. Then said Gaius, Is this Christian's wife, and are these Christian's children? 
Ijknew your husband's father, yea, also his father's father. Many have been good of 
tms stock; their ancestors dwelt iirst at Antioch. (Acts xi. 26.) Christian's progeni- 
tors (I suppose you have heard your husband talk of tkem) were very v/ortiiy men. 
They have, above any that I know, showed themselves men of great virtue and cour- 
age, for the Lord of the pilgrims, his ways, and them that loved him. I have heard of 
many of your husband's relations that have stood all trials for the sake of the truth. 
Stephen, that was one of the first of the family from whence your Jiusband sprang, was 
knocked on the head with stones. (Acts vii. 59, 60.) James, another of this genera- 
tion, was slain with the edge of the sword. (Acts xii. 2.) To say nothing of Paul and 
Peter, men anciently of the family from whence your husband came, tiiere was Igna- 
tius, who was cast to the lions; Komanus, whose liesh was cut by pieces from his bones; 
and Polycarp, that played the man in the fire. There was he that was hanged up in a 
basket in the sun for the wasps to eat; and he whom they put into a sack and cast into 
the sea to be drowned. It would be impossible utterly to count up all of that family 
that have suffered injuries and death for the love of a pilgrim's life. Nor can I but be 
glad to see that thy husband has left behind him four such boys as these. 1 hope they 
will bear up their father's name, and tread in their father's steps, and come to their 
father's end. 

Great. Indeed, sir, they are likely lads; they seem to choose heartily their father's 
ways. 

Gaius. That is it that I said. Wherefore Christian's family is like still to spread 
abroad upon the face of the ground, and yet to be numerous upon the face of the earth; 
let Christiana look out some damsels for her sons, to whom they may be betrothed, etc., 
that the name of their father, and the house of his progenitors, may never be forgotten 
in the world. 

Hon. 'Tis pity his family should fall and be extinct. 

Gaius. Fall it cannot, but be diminished it may; but let Christiana take my advice, 
and that is the way to uphold it. And, Christiana, said this inn-keeper, I am glad to 
see thee and thy friend Mercy together here, a lovely couple. And if I may advise, 
take Mercy into a nearer relation to thee; if she will, let her be given to Matthew, thy 
eldest son. It is the way to preserve a posterity in the earth. * "**' 



THE Pir.GRIM'S PROGRESS, 107 

So this match was concluded, and in process of time they were married; but more of 
that hereafter. 

Gains also proceeded, and said, I will now speak on the behalf of women, to take 
away their reproach. For as death and the curse came into the world by a woman, so 
also did life and health. God sent forth his son, made of woman. (Gen. iii.; Gal. iv. 
4.) Yea, to show how much they that came after did abhor the act of the mother, this 
sex- in the Old Testament coveted children, if happily this or that woman mi^t be the 
mother of the Savior of the w^orld. I will say again, that when the Savior was come, 
women rejoiced in him, before either man or angel. (Luke ii.) I read not that ever 
any man did give unto Christ so much as one groat; but the women followed him, and 
ministered to him of their substance. ^Twas a woman that washed his feet with tears, 
and a woman that anointe^d his body to the burial. They were women that wept when 
he was going to the cross ; and women that followed him from the cross, and that sat 
by his sepulcher when he was buried. They were \vomen that were first with him at 
his resurrection morn; and women that brought tidings first to his disciples that he 
was risen from the dead. (Luke vii. 37-50, viii. 2, 3, xxiii. 27, xxiv. 22, 23; John ii. 3, 
xi. 2; Matt, xxvii. 55-61.) Women therefore are highly favored, and show by these 
things that they are sharers with us in the grace of life. 

Now the COOK sent up to signify that supper was almost ready, and Sent one to lay 
the cloth, and the trenchers, and to set the salt and bread in order. 

Then said Matthew, The sight of this cloth, and of this forerunner of the supper, be- 
getteth in me a greater appetite to my food than I had before. 

Gaius. So let all ministering doctrines to thee in this life beget in thee a greater 
desire to sit at the supper of the great King in his kingdom; for all preaching, books, 
and ordinances here, are but as the laying of the trenchers, and the setting of salt upon 
the board, w^hen compared with the feast that our Lord will make for us when we come 
to his house. 

So supper came up. And first a heave-shoulder and a wave-breast were set on the 
table before them, to show that they must begin their meal with prayer and praise to 
God. (Lev. vii. 32-34, x. 14, 15; Psalms xxv. 1; Heb. xiii. 15.) The heave-shoulder 
David lifted up his heart to God with ; and with the wave-breast, where his heart lay, 
he used to lean upon his harp when he played. These two dishes were very fresh and 
good, and they all ate heartily thereof. 

The next they brought up was a bottle of wine, as red as blood. So Gaius said to 
them. Drink freely; this is the true juice of the vine, that makes glad the heart of God 
and man. So they drank and were merry. (Dent, xxxii. 14; Judg. ix. 13; John xv. 5.) 

The next was a dish of milk well crumbed. Gaius said. Let the boys have that, that 
they may grow thereby. (L Pet. ii. 1, 2.) 

Then they brought up in course a dish of butter and honey. Then said Gaius, Eat 
freely of this, for this is good to cheer up and strengthen your judgments and under- 
standings. This was our Lord's dish when he was a child : " Butter and honey shall he 
eat, that he may know how to refuse the evil, and choose the good.'' (Isa. vii. 15.) 

Then they brought them up a dish of apples, and they were very good-tasted fruit. 
Then said Matthew, May we eat apples, since they were such by and with which the 
serpent beguiled our first mother? 

Then said Gaius : 

Apples were they with which we were beguiled, 
Yet sin, not apples, hath our souls defiled : 
Apples forbid, if ate, corrupt the blood ; 
To eat such, when commanded, does us good : 
Drink of his flagons tlien, thou church, his dove, 
And eat his apples, who art sick of love. 

Then said Matthew, I made the scruple, because I a while since was sick with the 
eating of fruit. 

Gaius. Forbidden fruit will make you sick; but not what our Lord has tolerated. 

While they were thus talking, they were presented with another dish, and it was a 
dish of nuts. (Song vi. 11.) Then said some at the table, Nuts spoil tender teeth, es- 
pecially the teeth of children ; which when Gains heard, he said : 

Hard texts are nuts (I will not call them cheaters), 
Whose shells do keep their kernels from the eaters ; 
Open then the shells, and you shall have the meat; 
They here are brought for you to crack and eat. 



108 THE P1LGRIM*S PROGRESS. 

Then were they very merry, and sat the table a long time, talking of many things. Then 
said the old gentleman, My good landlord, while we are cracking your nuts, if you 
please, do you open this riddle: 

A man there was, though some did count him mad, 
Tiie more he cast away, the more he l-.-.-L 

Then they all gave good heed, wom^ering what good Gains would say; so he sat still 
a while, and then thus replied; 

He who bestows his cjoods upon the poor, 
Shall have as much aga:n, and ten limes mere. 

Then said Joseph, I dare say, sir, I did not think you could have i'ound it out. 

Oh, said Gaius, I have been trained up in this w.'.y a great while; nothing teaches 
like experience. J ha/e learned of my Lord to be kind, and have found by experience 
that I have gained thereby. There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is 
that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty. There is that maketh 
himself ricii, yet hath nothing; there is that maketh himself poor, yet hatli great 
riches. (Prov. xi. 24, xiii. 7.) 

Then Samuel whispered to Christiana, his mother, and said, Mother, this is a very 
good man's house; let us stay here a good while, and let my brother Matthew be mar- 
ried here to Mercy, before we go any further. The which Gains, the host, overhearing, 
said, With a very good will, niy child. 

So they stayed there more than a month, and Mercy was given to Matthew to wife. 
While they st lyed there, ]\Iercy, as lier cusrom was, would be making coats and gar- 
ments to give to the poor, by which she brought a very good report upon pilgrims. 

But to return again to our story. After supper, the lads desired a bed, for they were 
wearied with traveling. Then Gaius called, to show them their chamber; but said 
Mercy, I will have them to bed. So she had them to bed — and they slept well; but the 
rest sat up all night, tor Gains and they were such - uitable company that they could not 
tell how to part. Then after much talk of their Lord, themselves, and their journey, 
old Mr. Honest, he that put forth the riddle to Gains, began to nod. Then said Great- 
heart, What, sir, you begin to be drowsy; come, rub up now, here is a riddle for you. 
Then said Mr. Honest, Let us hear it. Then said Mr. Great-heart; 

He that would kill, must first he overcome: 
Who live abroad would, first must die at home. 

Ha ! said Mr. Honest, it is a hard one ; hard to expound and harder to practice. But 
come, landlord, said he, I w.ll, if you please, leave my part to you; do you expound it 
and I will hear what you say. 

No, said Gaius, it was put to you, and His expected you should answer it. Then said 
the old gentleman : 

He first by grace must conquer'd be, 

That siii would liiortisy : 
"\Vh' that he lives would convince me, 
Unto himself must die. 

It is right, said Gaius; good doctrine and experience teach this. For, first, until 
grace displays itsedf, and overcomes the soul with its glory, it is altogether without 
lieart to oppose sin. Besides, if sin is Satan's cords, by which the soul li* s bound, how 
should it make resistance before it is loosed from that infirmity? Secondly, Nor will 
any that knows either reason or grace believe that such a man can be a living monument 
of grace, that is a slave to his own corruptions. And now it comes into my mind, I 
will tell you a story wortli the hearing. Tiiere were two men that went on pilgrimage; 
the one began when he was young, the other when he Avas old. The young man liad 
strong corruptions to grapj)le with ; the old man's were weak with the decays of nature. 
The young man trod his steps as even as did the old one, and was every way as light as 
he. 'Who now, or which of them, had their graces shining clearest, since both seemed 
to be alike? 

Hon. The young man's, doubtless. For that which heads it against the greatest op- 
position gives the best demonstration tliat it is strongest; especially when it also hold- 
eth i)ace witli that which meets not with half so much, as, to be .^ure, old asce does not. 
Besides, I have observed that old men have blessed themselves with this mistake; 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 109 

namely, taking the decays of nature for a gracious conquest over corruptions, and so 
have been apt to beguile themselves. Indeed, old mvn ihat are gracious are best able 
to give advice to them that are young, because they have seen most of the emptiness of 
things; but yet, for an old and h young man to set out both together, the young one has 
the advantage of the fairest discovery of a work of grace within him, though the old 
man's corrui)tions are naturally the weakest. Thus they sat talking till break of day. 

Now, when the lamily were iip, Christiana bid her son James that he should read a 
chapter; so he read the 53d of Isaiah. When he had done, IMr. Honest asked why it 
WMS said that the Savior is said to "come out of a dry groand/' and also, that "he had 
no form nor comeliness in hhn.^' 

Great. Then said Mr. Great-heart, To tV.e first I answer. Because the church of the 
Jews, of wliich Christ came, had then lost almost all the sap and spirit of rrligion. To 
the second I say, Tne words are spoken in the person of unbelievers, who, because they 
v/nnt the eye tnat can see into our Prince's heart, therefore they judge of him by the 
meanness of his outside, just like those that know not that pr^ cious stones are covered 
over with a homel crust, who, when they have found one, because they know not what 
they have found, cast it away again, as men do a common stone. 

Well, said Gaius, now you are here, and since, as I know, Mr. Great-he:^rt is good at 
his weapons, if you please, after Ave have refreshed ourselves, w^e will walk into the 
fields, to see if we can do any good. Aliout a mile from hence there is one Slay-good, 
a giant, that does mucii annoy the King's highway in these parts; and 1 know wherea- 
bout his haunt is. lie is master of a number of thieves; 'twould be well if we could 
clear these parts of him. So they consented and went; Mr. Great-heart with his sword, 
helmet and shield, and the rest with s})ears and staves. 

When they came to the place where he was, they found him with one Feeble-minded 
in his hand, whom iiis servants had brought unto him, having taken him in the way. 
Now the giant was rifling him, with a purpose after that to pick his bones; for he was 
of the nature of fiesh-eaters. 

Well, so soon as he saw Mr. Great-heart and his friends at the mouth of his cave, with 
their v/eapons, he demanded what they wanted. 

Great. We want thee; for we are come to revenge the quarrels of the many that 
thou hast slain of the pilgrims, when thou hast dragged them out of the King's high- 
way; wherefore come out of thy cave. So he armed himself and came out, and to 
battle they went, and fought for above an hour, and then stood still to take wind. 

Then said the giant, Why are you here on my ground? 

Great. To revenge the blood of the pilgrims, as I told thee before. So they went 
to it again, and the giant made Mr. Great-heart give back; but he came up again, and 
in the greatness of his mind he let tiy with such stoutness at the giant's head and sides 
that he made him let his weapon fall out of his hand. So he smote him, and slew him, 
and cut oH' his head, and brought it away to the inn. He also took Feeble-mind the 
l)ilgrim, and brought him with him to his lodgings. When they were come home they 
showed his head to the family, and set it up, as they had done others before, for a ter- 
ror to those that should attempt to do as he hereafter. 

Then they asked Mr. Feeb.e-mind how he fell into his hands. 

Feeble. Then .said the poor man, I am a sickly man, as you see, and because death 
did usually once a day knock at my door, I thought I should never be well at home ; so 
I betook myself to a pilgrim's life, and have traveled hither from the town of Uncer- 
tain, where I and my father were born. I am a man of no strength at all of body, nor 
yet of mind, but would, if I could, though I can but crawl, spend my life in the pil- 
grim's way. When I came at the gate tliat is at the head of the way, the Lord of tliat 
Ijiace did entertain mefreely ; neither objected he against my weak y looks, nor against 
my feeble mind, but gave me such things as were necessary lor my journey, and bid me 
hope to the end. When I came to the house of the interpreter, I received much kind 
ness there, and because the hill of Difhculty was judged too hard for me, I was car- 
ried up that by one of his servant^. Indeed, I have found much relief from pilgrims, 
thougli none was willing to go so softly as I am forced to do; yet still, as they came on, 
they bid me be of good cheer and sa d that it was the will of their Lord that comfort 
should be given to the feeble-minded (I. Thess. v. 14), and so went on tueir own pace. 
When I was come to Assiu!t-lane, then this giant met with me, and bid me prepare for 
an encounter. But, alas! feeble one that I was, I had more need of a cordial; so he 
came up and took me. I conceited he should not kill me. Also when he got me into 
his den, since i went not with him willingiy 1 believed 1 should come out alive again ; 



110 THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. 

for I have heard, that not any pilgrim that is taken captive by violent hands, if he 
keeps heart-^vhole toward this master, is, by the laws of providence, to die by the hand 
of the enemy. Eobbed I looked to be, and robbed to be sure I am; but I am, as you 
see, escaped with life, for the which I thank my King as the author, and you as the 
means. Other brunts I also look for; but this I have resolved on, to wit, to run when 
I can, to go when I cannot run, and to creep when I cannot go. As to themaiu, I thank 
Him that loved me, I am fixed ; my way is before me, my mind is beyond the river that 
has no bridge, though I am, as you see, but of a feeble mind. 

Hon. Then said old Mr. Honest, Have not you sometime ago been acquainted with 
one Mr. Fearing, a |)ilgrim? 

Feeble. Acquainted with him! Yes, he came from the town of Stupidity, which 
lieth four degrees to the northward of the city of Destruction, and as many otf of 
where I was born ; yet we were well acquainted, for indeed he was my uncle, my father's 
brother. He and I have been much of a temper; he was a little shorter than I, but yet 
we were much of a complexion. 

Hon. I perceive jou knew him, and I am apt to believe also that you were related 
one to another: for you have his whitely look, a cast like his with your eye, and your 
speech is much alike. 

Feeble. Most have said so that have known us both ; and, beside, what I have read 
in him I have for the most part found in myself. 

GAirs. Come, sir, said good Gains, be of good cheer ; you are welcome to me, and 
to my house. What thou hast a mind to, call for freely; and what thou wouldst have 
my my servants do for thee, they will do it with a ready mind. 

Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, This is an unexpected favor, and as the sun shining out 
of a very dark cloud. Did giant Slay-good int'end me this favor when he stopped me, 
and resolved to let me go no farther? Did he intend, that after he had rilled my 
pocket, I should go to Gains mine host? Yet so it is. 

Now jtist as Mr. Feeble-mind and Gains were thus in talk, there comes one running, 
and called at the door, and said. That about a mile and a half off there was one Mr. 
Not-right, a pilgrim, struck dead upon the place where he was with a thunderbolt. 

Feeble. Alas ! said Mr. Feeble-mind, is he slain ! He overtook me some days be- 
fore I came so far as liither. and would be my company-keeper. He was also with me 
when Slay-good the giant took me, but he wais nimble of his heels, and escaped ; but it 
seems he escaped to die, and I was taken to live. 

What one would think doth seek to slay outright, 

Ofitimes delivers irom the saddest plij^ht. 

That very Providence whose lace is death, 

Doth olttimes to the lowly life bequeath. 

I taken was, he did escape and flee ; 

Hands cross'd gave death to him, and life to me. 

Now, about this time Matthew and Mercy were married; also Gaius gave his 
daughter Phebe to James, Matthew's brother, to wife ; after which time they yet stayed 
about ten days at Gaius's house, spending their time and the seasons like cis pilgrims 
use to do. 

When they were to depart, Gaius made them a feast, and they did eat and drink, 
and were merry. Now the hour was come that they must be gone; wherefore Mr. 
Great-heart called for a reckoning. But Gaius told him that at his house it was not 
the custom of pili^-rims to pay for their entertainment. He boarded them by the year, 
but looked for his pay from the good Samaritan, who had promised him, at his return, 
whatsoever charge he was at with them, faithfully to repay him. (Luke x. 34, 35.) Then 
said Mr. Great-heart to him: 

GliEAT. *' Beloved, thou doest faithfully, whatsoever thou doest to the brethren, 
and to strangers; which have borne witness of thy charity before the church, whom if 
thou yet bring forward on their journey after a godly sort, thou shalt do well.'' (John 
iii. 5, 6.) Then Gaius took his leave of them all, and his children, and particularly of 
Mr. Feeble-mind. He also gave hhn something to drink by the way. Now, Mr, Feeble- 
mind, when they were going out of the door, made as it he intended to linger. The 
which when Mr. Great-heart espied, he said. Come, Mr. Feeble-mind, pray do you go 
along with us; I will be your conductor, and you shall fare as the rest. 

Feeble. Alas! I want a suitable companion. You are all lusty and strong, but I, 
as you see, am weak ; 1 choose therefore rather to come behind, lest, by reason of my 
many infirmities I should be both a burden to myself and to you, I am, as I said, o 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. Ill 

man of weak and feeble mind, and shall be offended and made weak at that which 
others can bear. I shall like no laughing; I shall like no gay attire; I shall like no 
unprofitable questions. Nay, I am so weak a man as to be offended with that which 
others have a liberty to do. I do not yet know all the truth ; I am a very ignorant 
Christian man. Sometimes, if I hear some rejoice in the Lord, it troubles me, because 
I cannot do so too. It is Avith me as it is with a weak man among the strong, or as with 
a sick man among the healthy, or as a lamp despised. " lie that is ready to slip with 
his feet is as a lamp despised, in the thought of him that is at ease.'' (Job xii. 5.) So 
that I know not what to do. 

Great. But, brother, said Mr. Great-heart, I have it in commission to comfort the 
feeble-minded and to support the w.eak. You must need go along with us; we will 
wait for you; we will lend you our help; we will deny ourselves of some things, both 
o})inionative and practical, for your sake ; we will not enter into doubtful disputations 
before you; w^e will be made all things to you, rather than you shall be lelt behind. 
(Rom. xiv; I. Cor. \u.) 

Now, all this while they were at Gaius's door, and behold, as they were thus in the 
heat of their discourse, Mr. Ready-r-ii-halt came by, with his crutches in his hand, and 
he also w^as going on pila:rimage. (Psalm xxxviii. 17.) 

Feeble. Then ^^aid Mr. Feeble-mind to him, Man, how earnest thou hither? I was 
but now complaining that 1 had not a suitable companion, but thou art according to my 
wish. Welcome, welcome, good Mr. Ready-to-halt, I hope t^iou and I may be some 
help. 

Ready. I shall be glad of thy company, said the other ; and, good Mr. Feeble- 
mind, rather than we will part, since we are thus happily met, I will lend thee one of 
my crutches. 

Feeble. Nay, said he, though I thank thee for thy good will, I am not inclined to 
halt before I am lame. Howbeit, I think when occasion is it may help me against a 
dog. 

Ready. If either myself or my crutches can do thee a pleasure, we are both at thy 
command, good Mr. Feeble-mind. 

Thus therefore they went on. Mr. Great-heart and Mr. Honest w^ent before, Christ- 
iana and her children went next, and Mr. Feeble-mind and Mr. Ready-to-halt came be- 
hind with his crutches. Then said Mr. Honest, 

Hon. Pray, sir, now we are upon the road, tell us some profitable things of some 
that have gone on pilgrimage before us. 

Great. With a good will. I suppose you have heard how Christian of old did meet 
with Apollyon in the valley of Humiliation, and also what hard work he had to go 
through the valley of the Shadow of Death. Also 1 think yon cannot but have heard 
how Faithful w^as put to it by Madam Wanton, wdth Adam the first, with one Discontent, 
and Shame ; four as deceitful villains as a man can meet with upon the road. 

Hon. Yes, I have heard of all this ; but indeed good Faithful was hardest put to it 
with Shame ; he was an unwearied one. 

Great. Ay; for as the pilgrim well said, he of all men had the wrong name. 

Hon. Bur pray, sir, where was it that Christian and Faithful met Talkative ? That 
same was also a notable one. 

Great. He was a confident fool? yet many follow his ways. 

Hon. He had like to have beguiled Faithful. 

Great. Ay, but Christian put him into a way quickly to find him out. 

Thus they went on till they came to the place where Evangelist met with Christian 
and Faithful, and prophesied to them what should befall them at Vanity Fair. Then 
said their guide, Hereabouts did Christian and Faithful meet with Evangelist, who 
prophesied to them of what troubles they should meet with at Vanity Fair. 

Hon. Say you so? I dare say it was a hard chapter that then he read unto them. 

Great. 'Twasso; but he gave them encouragement withal. But what do we talk 
of them? They were a couple of lion-like men; they had set their faces like flint. 
Do not you remember how undaunted they were when they stood before the judge? 

Hon. Well ; Faithful bravely suffered. 

Great. So he did, and as brave things came on't; for Hopeful, and some others, as 
the story relates it, w^ere converted by his death. 

Hon. Well, but pray go on ; for you are well acquainted with things. 

Great. Above all that Christian met with after he had passed through Vanity Fair, 
one By-ends was the arch one. 



112 THE riLGRIM'S PROGRESS* 

Hon. By-ends! wliatwnshe? 

Great. A very arch fellow, a downright hypocrite, one that would be religious, 
whichever way the world went; but so cunning that he would be sure never to lose or 
suffer for it. He had his mode of religion for every fresh occasion, and his wife was as 
good at it ashe. He would turn from opinion to opinio i ; yea, and plead for so doing, 
too. But so far as I could learn, he came to an ill end with his by-ends ; nor did I ever 
hear that any of his children were ever of any esteem with any that truly feared God. 

Now, by this time they were come within sight of the town of Vanity, where Vanity 
Fair is kept. So, when they saw that they were so near the town, they consulted with 
one another how they should pass through the town; and some said one thing, and 
some anot ler. At last Mr. Great-heart said, I have, as you may understand, often been 
a conductor of pilgrims through this town. Now, I am acquainted with one Mr. Mna- 
son, a Cyprusian by nation, an old disciple, at whose house we may lodge. If you 
think good, said he, we will return in there. 

Content, said Old Honest ; Content, said Christiana; Content, said Mr. Feeble-mintl; 
and so they said all. Now you must think that it was eventide by that they got to the 
outside of the town; but Mr. Great-heart knew the way to the old man's house. So 
thither they came; and he called at the door; and the old man within, knew his tongui 
so soon as ever he heard it; so he opened, and they ail came in. Then said Muason 
their host. How far have ye come to-day? So they said. From the house of Gains our 
friend. I promise you, said he, you have gone a good stitch. You may well be weary; 
sit down. So they sat down. 

Great. Then said their guide, Come, what cheer, good sirs? I dare say you are wel- 
come to* my friend. 

Mnas. I also, said Mr. Mnason, do bid you welcome; and whatever you want, do but 
say, and we will do what we can to get it for you. 

Hon. Our great want a while since was harbor and good company, and now I hope 
we have both 

Mnas. For harbor, you see what it is ; but for good company, that will appear in the 
trial. 

Great. Well, said Mr. Great-heart, will you have the pilgrims up into their 
lodging? 

Mnas. I will, said Mr. Mnason. So he had them to their respective places; and also 
showed them a very fair dining room, where they might be, and sup together until the 
time was come to goto rest. 

Now when they were seated in their places, and were a little cheery after ther jour- 
ney, Mr. Honest asked his landlord if there were any store of goodpeo})ie in the town. 

Mnas. We have a few; for indeed they are but a few, when compared with them on 
the other side. 

Hon. But how shall we do to see some of them? for the sight of good men to them 
that are going on pilgrimage is like to the appearing of the moon and stars to them tnat 
are sailing upon the seas. 

Mnas. Then Mr. Mnason stamped with his foot, and his datighter Grace came up. 
So he said unto her, Grace, go you, tell my friends, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. 
Love-saints, Mr. Dare-not-lie, and Mr. Penitent, that I have a friend or two at my house 
that have a mind this evening to see them. So Grace went to call them, and they came ; 
and after salutation made, they sat down together at tiie table. 

Then said Mr. Mnason their landlord. My neighbors, I have as you see, a company of 
strangers come to my house ; they are pilgrims ; they come from afar, and are going 
to Mount Zion. But who, quoth he, do you think this is? pointing his finger to Ciirist- 
iana — it is Christiana, the wife of Christian, the famous pilgrim, who -with Faithful his 
brother was so shamefully handled in our town. At that they stood amazed, saying. We 
little thought to see Christiana when Grace came to call us ; wherefore this is a very 
comfortable surprise. They then asked her of her welfare, and if these young men were 
her husband's sons. And when she had told them tiiey were, they said. The King 
whom you love and serve make you as your father, and bring you where he is in peace ! 

Then Mr. Honest (when they were all sat down) asked Mr Contrite and the rest, in 
what posture their town was at present. 

Contr. You may be sure we are full of hurry in fair-time. 'Tis hard keeping our 
hearts and spirits in good order when we are in a cumbered condition. He that^lives 
in such a place as this is, and that has to do with such as we have, has need of an item to 
caution him to take heed every moment of the day. 



THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. ' 113 

Hon. But how are your neiG^hbors now for quietness? 

CoNTR. They are much more moderate now than formerly. You know how Christian 
and Faithful were used at our town ; but of hite, I say, tliey liave been lar more mod- 
erate. I th nk the blood of Faithful lieth with a load upon them till now; for since they 
burned him tliey have been ashamed to burn any more. In those days we were afraid 
to wdk the streets; but now we can show our heads. Then the name of a ])rot(Ssor 
was odious ; now, especially in some parts of our town (for you know our to\\ n is large), 
relicrion is counted honorable. Then said Mr. Contrite to tliem, Pray, how fared it with 
vou in your pilgrimage ? How stands the country attected toward you .-' 

Hex.' It happens to us as it happeneth to wayfaring men : sometimes our way is 
clean, sometimes foul ; sometimes up-hill, sometimes down-hill; we are seldom at a cer- 
tainty. The wind is not always on our backs, nor is every one a friend that we meet 
with ia the way. We have met with some notable rubs already, and what are yet be- 
hind we know not; but for the most part we find it true that has been talked of old, A 
good man must suflfer trouble. 

CoxTR. You talk of rubs ; what rubs have you met withal ? 

Hon. Nay, ask Mr. Great-heart, our guide; for he can give the best account of that. 

Great. We have been beset three or four times already. First, Christiana and her 
children were beset by two ruffians, that they feared would have taken away their lives. 

We were beset with Giant Bloody-raan, Giant Maul and Giant Slay-good. Indeed, we 
did rather beset the last than were bese of him. And thus it was : after we had been 
some time at tne house of Gains, mine host — and of the whole cluirch — we were minded 
upon a time to take our weapons with us and go see it we could light upon any of those 
that are enemies to pilgrims; for we heard that there was a notable one thereabouts. 
Now, Gains knew his haunt better than I, because he dwelt thereabout. So we looked 
and looked, till at last we discerned the mouth of his cave; then we were glad, and 
plucked up our spirits. So we approached up to his den ; and, lo, when we came there 
he had dragged, by mere force, into his net this poor man, Mr. Feeble-mind, and was 
about to bring him to his end. But when he saw us — supposing, as we tliought, he had 
another prey — he left the poor man in his hole and came out. So we fell to it f uil sore, and 
he lustily laid about him; but, in conclusion, he was brought down to the ground, and 
his head cut off and set up by the wayside, for a terror to such as should after practice 
such ungodliness. That I tell you the truth here is the man himself to afiirm it, who 
was as a lamb taken out of the mouth of the lion. 

Then said Mr. Feeble-mind, I found this true, to my cost and comfort; to my cost, 
when he threatened to picK my bones every moment; and to my comfort, when I saw 
Mr. Great-heart and his friends, with their weapons, approach so near for my deliver- 
ance. 

Tiien said Mr. Holy-man, There are two things that they have need to be possessed 
with who go on pi.grimage ; courage and an unspotted life. If they have not courage 
they can never hold on their way, and if their lives be loose they wid make the very 
name of a pilgrim stink. 

Tiien said Mr. Love-saints, I hope this caution is not needful among you. But truly 
there are many that go upon the road that rather declare themselves atrangers to pil- 
grimage, than "strangers and pilgrims on the earth." 

Then said Mr. Dare-not-lie, 'Tis true. They neither have the pilgrim's weed nor the 
pihgrim's courage . they go not uprightly, but all awry wiih their feet; one shoe goes 
inward, another outward, and their hosen out behind; here a rag, and there a rent, to 
the disparagement of their Lord. 

These things, said Mr. Penitent, they ought to be troubled for ; nor are the pilgrims 
like to have that grace put upon them, and their pilgrim's progress as they desire, until 
the way is cleared of such spots and blemishes. 

Thus they sat talking and spending the time until tupper was set upon the table, 
unto which they went and refreshed their weary bodies; so they went to rest. 

Now, they stayed in the fair a great while, at the house of this Mr. Mnason ; who, in 
process of time, gave his daughter Grace unto Samuel, Christiana's son, to wife, and his 
daughter Martha to Joseph. 

The time, 2is I said, that they lay here was long ; for it was not now as in former 
times. Wherefore the pilgrims grew acquainted with many of the good people of the 
town, and did them what service they could. Mercy, as she was wont, labored much 
for the poor; wherefore their bellies and backs blessed her and she was there an orna- 
ment to her profession. And to say the truth for Grace, Phebe and Mai-tha; they were 



114 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

all of a very good nature and did much good in their places. They were, also, all of 
them very fruitful; so that Christian's name, as was said before, was like to live in the 
world. 

While they lay here there came a monster out of the woods and slew many of the 
people of the town. It would also carry away their children and teach them to suck its 
whel{)s. Now, no man in the town durst so much as face this monster; but all fled 
when they heard the noise of his coming. 

The monster was like unto no one beast on the earth. Its body was like a dragon and 
it had seven heads and ten horns. (R,ev. xii. 3.) It made great havoc of children and 
yet it was governed by a woman. This moirster propounded conditions to men; and 
such men as loved their livos more than their souls accepted of those conditions. So 
they came under. 

Now Mr. Great-heart, together with those who came to visit the pilgrims at Mr. 
Mnason's hou«e, entered into a covenant to go and engage this beast, if perhaps they 
might deliver the people or this town from the paws and mouths of this so devouring a 
ser])ent. 

Tiien did Mr. Great-heart, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-man, Mr. Dare-not-lie and Mr. Peni- 
tent, with their weapons, go forth to meet him. Now, the monster at first was very 
rampant, and looked upon these enemies with great disdain; but they so belabored 
liim, being sturdy men at arms, that they made him make a retreat. So they came 
home to Mr. Mnason's house again. 

Ti^e monster, you must know, had his certain seasons to come out in, and to make his 
attempts upon the children of the people of the town. At these seasons did these val- 
iant worthies watch him in and did still continually assault him; insomuch that in pro- 
cess of time he became not only wotinded but lame. Also, he has not made that havoc 
of the townsmen's children as formerly he had done ; and it is verily believed by some 
that this beast will die of his wounds. 

This, therefore, made Mr. Great-heart and his fellows of great fame in this town; so 
that many of the people that wanted their taste of things yet had a reverent esteem and 
respect for them. Upon this account, therefore, it was that these pilgrims got not much 
hurt here. True, there were some of the lesser sort, that could see no more than a mole 
nor understand more than a beast; these had no reverence fur these men, nor took tiiev 
notice of their valor and a ventures. 



THE SEVENTH STAGE. 

Well, the time grew on that the pilgrims must go on their way; wherefore they pre- 
pared for their journey. They sent for their friends ; they conferred with them; they 
iiad some time set apart therein to commit each other to the protection of their Prince. 
There were, again, tnat brought them of such things ns they had that were lit for the 
weak and the strong — for the women and the men — and so laded them with such things 
as were necessary. (Acts xxviii. 10.) Then tliey set forward on their way; and their 
friends accompanying them so far as was convenient, they again committed each other 
to the protection of their King and parted. 

They, therefore, that were of the pilgrims' company went on ; and ^fr. Great-heart 
went before them. Now, the women and children being weakly, they were forced to go 
as they could bear; by this means Mr. Keady-to-halt and Mr. Feeble-mind had more lo 
sympathize with their condition. 

When they were gone from the townsmen, and when their friends had bid them fre- 
well, they quickly came to the place where Faithful was put to death. Therefore they 
made a stand, and thanked him that had enabled him to bear his cross so well; and the 
rather, because they now found that they had a benefit by such a manly suflering as his 
was. 

They went on, therefore, after this a good way farther, talking of Christian and 
Faithful, and how Ho})eful joined himself to Christian after that Faithful was dead. 

Now they were come up with the hill Lucre, where the silver-mine was which took 
Demas ofi'from his pilgrimage, and into which, as some .think, By-ends fell and perished; 
wherefore they considered tliat. But when they were come to the old monument that 
stood over against the hill Lucre — to wit, to the piliav of salt, that stood also within 
view of Sodom and its stinking lal^e — they mai*veled, as did Christian before, that men 



THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. 115 

of that knowledge and ripeness of wit as they were should be so blinded as to turn aside 
here. Only they considered again that nature is not affected with the harms that others 
have met with, especially if that thing upon which they look has an attracting virtue 
upon the foolish eve. 

I saw, now, that" they went on till they came to the river that was on this side of the 
Delectable Mountains ; to the river where the fine trees grow on both sides, and whose 
leaves, if taken inwardly, are good against surfeits (Psalm xxiii.); where the meadows 
are green all the year long, and where they might lie down safely. 

By this river side, in the meadows, there were cotes and folds for sheep, a house built 
for the nourishing and bringing up of those lambs, the babes of those women that go on 
pilgrimage. Also, there was here one that was entrusted with them, who could have 
compassion, and that could gather these lambs with his arm and carry them in his 
bosom, and that could gently lead those that are with young. (Heb. v. 2; Isa. Ixiii.) 
Now, to the care of this man Christiana admonished her four daughters to commit their 
little ones, that by these waters they might be housed, harbored, succored and nourished, 
and that none of them might be lacking in time to come. This man, if any of them go 
astray or be lost, he will bring them again; he will also bind up that which was broken 
and will strengthen them that are sick. (Jer. xxiii. 4; Ezek. xxxiv. 11-16.) Here tliey 
will never want meat, drink and clothing ; here they will be kept from thieves and rob- 
bers ; for this man will die before one of those committed to his trust shall be lost. Be- 
side, here they shall be sure to have good nurture and admonition, anil shall be taught 
to walk in right paths — and that, you know, is a favor of no small account. Also here, 
as you see, are delicate waters, pleasant meadows, dainty flowers, variety of trees and 
such as bear wholesome iruit; fruit, not like that which Matthew ate of — that fell over 
the wail out of Beelzebub's garden — but fruit that procureth health where there is none, 
and that continueth and increaseth it where it is. So they were content to commit 
their little ones to him ; and that which was also an encouragement to them so to do, 
was for that all this was to be at the charge of the King, and so was a hospital to young 
children and orphans. * 

Now they went on. And when they were come to By-path meadow — to the stile over 
which Christian went with his fellow Hopeful, when they were taken by Giant Despair 
and put into Doubting Castle — they sat down and consulted what v/as best to be done ; 
to wit, now they were so strong and had got such a man as Mr. Great-heart for their con- 
ductor, whether they had not best to make an attempt upon the giant, demolish his 
castle, and if there were any pilgrims in it to set them at liberty before they went any 
farther. So one said one tiling and another s id the contrary. One questioned if it was 
lawful to go upon unconsecrated ground; another said they might, provided their end 
was^ood; but Mr. Great-heart said. Though that assertion offered last cannot be uni- 
versally true, yet I have a commandment to resist sin, to overcome evil, to tight the 
good fight of faith ; and, I pray, with whom should I tight this good fight, it not with 
Giant Despair? I will, therefore, attempt the taking awciy of his life and the demolish- 
ing of Douoting-castle. Then said he. Who will go witii me? Then said old Honest, I 
will. And so svitl we, too, said Christiana's four sons, Matthew, Samuel, Joseph and 
James; for they were young men and strong. (John ii. 13, 1-1.) So they left. the women 
in the road, and with them Mr. Feeble-mind and Mr. Beady-to-halt, with his crutches, 
to be their guard until they came back ; for, in that plade the Giant Despair dwelt so 
near, they, keeping in the road, a little child might lead them. (Isa. xi. (i.) 

So Mr. Great-heart, old Honest, and the four young men went to go up to Doubting 
Castle to look for Giant Despair. When they came at the castle gate they knocked for 
entrance with an unusual noise. At thar the old giant comes to the gate, and Difh- 
dence, his wife, follows. Then said he. Who and what is he that is so hardy, as after 
this manner to molest the Giant Despair? Mr. Great-heart replied, it is I, Great-heart, 
one of the King of the Celestial Country's conductors of pilurims to their place ; and 1 
demand of thee- that thou open thy gates for my entrance; prepare thyself also to fight, 
for I am come to take away thy head and to demolish Doubting-Castle. 

Now, Giant Despair, because he was a giant, thought no man could overcome him ; 
and again thought he. Since heretofore I have made a conquest of angels, shall Great- 
heart make me afraid? So he harnessed himself and went out. He had a cap of steel 
upon his head, a breast-plate of fire girded to him, and he came out in iron shoes, with 
a great club in his hand. Then these six men made up to him, and beset him behind 
and before ; also when Diffidence the giantess came up to help him, old ^Ir. Honest 
cut her down at one blow. Then they fought for their liveiJ, and Giaut Despair was 



116 THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. 

brought down to the ground, but was very loth to die. He struggled hard, and had,fis 
they say, as many lives, as a cat; but Great-heart was his death, for he left him not till 
he had severed his head from his shoulders. 

Then they fell to demolishing Doubting-Castle, and that you know might with ease 
be done, since Giant Despair was dead. They were seven days m destroying of that; 
and in it of pilgrims they found one Mr. Despondency, almost starved to death, and 
one Much-airaid, his daugliter; these two they saved alive. But it would have made 
you a-wondered to have seen the dead bodies that lay here and there in the casile-yarJ, 
and how full of dead men's bones the dungeon was. 

When Mr. Grea>heart and his companions had performed this exploit, they took 
Mr. Despondency, and his daughter Much-afraid, into their protection; for they were 
honest people, tiiough they were prisoners in Doubtin j-castle to that tyrant G.ant De- 
spair. They, therefore, I say, took with them the head of the giant (for his body they 
buried und.r a heap of stones), and down to the road and to their companions they 
came, an*! showed tiem what tney had done. Now, when Feeble-mind and Ready-to- 
halt saw that it was the head of Giant of Despair indeed, they were very jocund and 
merry. Now, Christiana, if need was, could play upon the v.ol, and "her daughter 
Mercy upon the lute; so since taey were so merry disposed, she played them a lesson, 
and Eeady-:o-halt would dance. So he to >k Despondency's daughter, Much-afr lid, by 
the hand, and to dancing they went in the road. True, he could iiot dance wit^iout 
one crutch in his hand, but I promise you he footed it well; also the girl was to be 
commended, for she answered tiie music handsomely. 

As for Mr. Despondency, the music was not so much to him; he was for feeding 
rather than dancing, for tiiat he was almost starved. So Christiana gave him some of 
her bottle of spirits for present relief, and then preparediiim something to eat; and in 
a little time the ol . gentleman came to himself, and began to be finely revived. 

Now, I saw in my dream, when all these things were finished, Mr. Great-heart took 
the head of Giant Despair and set it upon a pole by the highway side, right over 
against the pillar that Chr^'stian erected for a caution to pilgnms that came after, to 
tai-ie heed of entering into his grounds. 

Then he wnt under it upon a marble stone these verses following; 

This is the head ot him, whos * name only 

111 ioriner times did pilgrims terr fy. 

H s castle's down, and D ffideiiee, his wile, 

Brave Mr. Great-he;irr h s b>-r ft ol li'e. 

Despondency, his daughter. Much-afraid, 

Gieat-ueari for tuem a^so iiie man ha.>? j iayed- 

Who heiC' f dou ts, if he'll but cast his eye 

tJp hither, may his scruples satisfy. 

'iuia neau .>i&M, vva.n douo.iug ciipphs dance, 

Doth show from feaia ihey iiave dehverauce. 

When these men had thus bravely showed themselves against Doubting-castle, and 
liMd s.aiu Giant Despair, they went forward, and went on till they came to DeiCCtable 
Mountains, where Ciiristian and Hopeful reire hed themselves with the varieties of the 
place. Ihey also acquainted themselves with the shepherds there, who welcomed 
them, as they had done Christian before, unto the Delectable Mountains. 

Now, tiieshepiierds seeing so great a train follow Mr. Great-heart (for with him they 
were well acquainted), tliey said unto him, Good sir, you have got a goodly company 
here; pray where did you find all these ? 

Then Mr. Great-iicurt replied : 

First, here is Christiana and her train, 
Her sons, and her so.s' wives, who like the wain, 
Keep by tue pole, and do by compass steer 
Fiom >in to grace, else they had not been here, 
Isext here's old Honest come on pilgrimage, 
K» ady-io-hait, too, who I uare engage 
True hearted is, and so is Feeble-m.iid, 
Who willing was not to be left b hind. 
Despondency, good man, is coming alter, 
And so also is Slucli-alraid, his d.iugnter. 
May we have enteituinmeni Uer , or must 
We larther go? Let's know whereon to trust. 

Then said the shepherds. This is a comfortable company. You are welcome to lis; 
for we have for the feeble as well as for the strong. Our Prince has an eye to what is 



THE PILGKIM'S PROGRESS. 117 

done to the least of these (Mitt. xxv. 40); therefore infirmity mn^t not be a block to 
our entertainment. So they had them to the pal ice door and then siid unto them, 
Come in, Mr. Feeble-mind," come in, Mr. Keady-to-halt, come in, Mr. Desponden- 
cy, and Mrs. Much-afraid his daughter. These, Mr. Great-heart, said the shep- 
herds to the .s^uide, we call in by name, for that they are most subject to draw- 
back ; but as for you and the rest thit are strnmr, we leave vou to your wonted liberty. 
Then said Mr. Great-heart, This day I see that grace doth shine in your faces, and 
that you are my Lord's shepherds indeed for that you have not jushed ih 'se di>eased 
neither with side nor shoulder, but have rather strewed iheir way into tiie paLice with 
flowers, as you should. (Ezek. xxiv. 21.) 

So the 'e^ble and weak went in, and Mr. Great-heart and the rest did follow. When 
they were also sat down, t. e shepherds said to those of the wiaki r s > t What is it 
that you vvculd have? for, said ihey, all things mustbe managed here to tne uppoiting of 
the weak, as well as to the warnins: of the unruly. So they made them a feast of things 
easy of dires ion, and th it were pleasant to the palate and nourishinir; tho which when 
they had received, they went to tneir rest, each one respectively unto in proper place. 

When morning was come because the mountains were hcrh and the d ly clear, and 
because it was t e custom oT the shepherds to shf>w the pilgrims beiore their departure 
some rarities; t.ierefore after they were ready, ard had re reshed themseiVcs, t:ie shep- 
herds took them out into the fields and showed them first what they iiad shown to 
Chris ian before. 

Then they had them to some new places. The first was Mount Marvel, where they 
looked and bCiield a man at a distance that tumbled the hills about with words. Then 
they asked the shei herds what thar should mean. So ihey to d them that tnat man 
was the son of one Mr. Great-grace, of whom you read in the fiist part of the records of 
The Pilgrims' Progress; and he is set there to teach pi'grims how to believe down, or to 
tumble out of their ways, what difficulties they shouid meet with by fa th. (Mark xi. 
23, 24.) Then sai-! Mr. Gre t-heart, I know niin, h^ is a man above many. 

Then they h id them to anotiier place called M >i!nt Innocence. And there they saw 
a man clothed all inw.-ite; and two men. Prejudice and Ill-will continually casting 
dirt upon him. Now, behold, the d.rt, whatsoever tiiey cast at him, would in a liitie 
time fall off again, and his irarment would look as clear as if no dirt had been cast 
thereat. Then said the pilgrims, Wiiat means this? Tne shepherds answered. This man 
is named God.y-man, and thiS garment is to show the innoceiicy of his life. Now, 
those that throw dirt at him are such as hate his well-doing; bur, as you see, the dirt 
will not stick upon his clothes, so it shall be with him that livetii innocently in the 
worid. Whoever they be that would make such men dirty, they labor all in vain; for 
God, by that a little time is spent, will cause that their innocence shall break lorth as 
the light, and thejr righteousness as the noonday. 

Then they took them and had them to Mount Charity, where they showed them a 
man that had a bundle of cloth lying before him, out of which he cut coats and gar- 
ments for the poor that stood about hmi ; yet his bundle or roll of cloth was never the 
less. Then said they, What should this be? This is, said the shepherds, to snow you 
that he who has a heart to give of his labor to thepoor shall never want wherewithal. 
He that water eth, shall be watered himself. And the cake that the widow gave to the 
prophet did not cause that she had the less in her barrel. 

They had them also to the place where they saw one Fool and one Want-wit washino- 
an Ethiopian, with intention to make him white ; but the more they washed him the 
blacker he was. Then they asked the shepherds what that should mean. So they told 
them, saying. Thus it is with the vile person ; all means used to get such a one a' good 
name, shall in conclusion tend but to make him more abominable. Thus it was with 
the Pharisees; and so it shall be with all hypocrites. 

Then said Mercy, the wife of Matthew, to Christiana her mother. Mother, I would, if 
it might be, see the hole in the hill, or that commonly called the By-way to hed. 'So 
her mother brake her mind to the shepherds. Then they went to the door ; it was on 
the side of an hill, and they opened it and bid Mercy hearken a while. So she heark- 
ened, and heard one saying, Cursed be my father for'holding of my feet back from the 
way of peace and life. Another said. Oh, that I had been torn in pieces before i had, 
to save my life, lost my soul ! And another said, If I were to live again, how would I 
deny myself rather than come to this place ! Then there was as if the very earth had 
groaned and quaked under the teet of this young woman for fear; so she looked white 
and came trembling away, saying, Blessed be he and she that is delivered from this place. 



118 THE PILGRIM^S PROGRESS. 

Now, when the shepherds had shown them all these things, then they had them back 
to the palace, and entertained them with what the house would afford. But Mercy, 
being a young and breeding woman, longed for something that she saw there, but was 
ashamed to ask. Her mother-in-law then asked her what she ailed, for she looked as 
one not well. Then said Mercy, There is a looking-glass hangs up in the dining-room, 
off which I cannot take ray mind ; if, therefore, I have it not, I think I shall miscarry. 
Then said her mother, I will mention thy wants to the shepherds, and they will not 
deny thee. But she said, I am ashamed that these men should know that I longed. 
Nay, my dnughter, said she, it is no shame, but a virtue, to long for such a thino: as 
that. So Mercy said. Then, mother, if you please, ask the shepherds if they are willing 
to sell it. 

Now the glass was one of a thousand. It would present a man, one way, with his 
own features exactly ; and turn it but another way, and it would show one the very 
face and similitude of the Prince of pilgrims himsef. Yes, I have talked with them 
that can teil, and they have said that they have seen the very crown of thorns upon his 
head by looking in that glass ; they have therein also se^ n the holes in his hands, his 
feet and his side. Yea, sucli.an excellency is there in this glass that it will show him 
to one where they have a mind to see him, whether living or dead ; whether in earth 
or in heaven ; whether in a state of humiliation, or in his exaltation ; whether coming 
to suffer, or coming to reign. (James i. 23-25; I. Cor. xiii. 12 ; II. Cor. iii. 18.) 

Christiana therefore went to the shepherds apart (now the names of the shepherds 
were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful and Sincere), and said unto them, There is one 
of my daughters, a breeding woman, that I think doth long for something that she 
hath seen in this house, and she thinks that she shall miscarry if she should by you be 
denied. 

Experience. Call her, call her, she shall assuredly have what we can help her to. 
So they called her, and saad to her, Mercy, what is that thing thou wouldst have ? Then 
she bluslicd, and said. The great glass tliat hangs up in the dining-room. So Sincere 
ran and fetched it, and with a joyful consent it was given her. Then she bowed her 
head and gave thanks, and said. By this I know that I have obtained favor in your eyes. 

They also gave to the other young women such things as they desired, and to tlieir 
husbands great commendations, for that they had joined with Mr. Great-heart in the 
slaying of Giant Despair and the demolishing of Doubting-castle. 

About Christiana's neck the shephei^s put a bracelet, and so did they about the 
necks of her four daughters; also they put ear-rings in their ears^ and jewels on their 
foreheads. 

When they were minded to go hence, they let them go in peace, but gave not to 1#iem 
those certain cautions which before were given to Christian and his companion. The 
reason was, for that these had Great-heart to be their guide, who was well acquainted 
with things, and so could give them their cautions more seasonably; to wit, even ^hen 
the danger was nigh the approaching. What catitions Christian and his companion 
had received of the shepherds they had also lost by that the time was come that they 
had need to ptit them in practice. Wherefore here was the advantage that this com- 
pany had over the other. 

From thence they went on singing, and they said, 

Behold how fitly are the stages set 

For their relief that pilgiims are become, 
And how they us receive without one let, 

That make the other lite our mark and home! 

What novelties they have to us they give, 

That we, though pilgrims, joyful lives may live. 
They do upon us, tO', such things bestow. 

That show we pijgrims are where'er we go. 



THE EIGHTH STAGE. 



When they were gone from the shepherds they quickly came to the place where 
Christian met with one Turn-away, that dwelt in the town of Apostasy. Wherefore of 
him Mr. Great-heart, their guide, did now put them in mind, saying, Thisis the place where 
Christian met with one Turn-away, who carried with him the character of his rebellion 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 11^ 

at his back. And this I have to say concerning this man: he would hearken to no 
counsel, but once a falling, persuasion couid not stop him. When he came to the ])lace 
whia\' the cross and sepulcher were, he did meet with one that bid him look there; 
but he gnashed with his teeth, and stamped, and said iie was resolved to .^o i>ack to iiis 
own town. Belore he came to the gate, he met with Evangelist, who offered to lay hands 
on him to turn liim into the way again. But this Turn-away resisted him, and 
having done m..ch despite unto him, he got away over the wall, and so escaped his 
hand. 

Then they went on ; and just at the place where Little-faith formerly was robbed 
there stood a man with his sword drawn, and iiis face all over with blood. Then said 
Mr. Great-heart, Who art thou? The man made answer, saying, I am one wI,o-e name 
is Valiant-for-truth. 1 am a pilgrim, and am going to the Celestial City. Now, as I 
was in my way, there were three men that did beset me, and propounded unto me these 
three things: First, whether i would become one of them. Secondly, or go back from 
whence I came. Thirdly, or die upon the place. To the first I answered, 1 nad been a 
true man for a long season, and therefore it could not be expected that I should now 
cast in my lot witii thieves. Then they demanded what I would say to the second. So I 
told them, The place from whence I came, had I not found incommodity there, I had 
not forsaken it at all; but finding it altogether unsuitable to me, and very unprofitable 
for me, 1 forsook it for this way. Then they asked me what I said to the third. And I 
told them, My life cost far more dear than that I should lightly give it away. Besides, 
you have nothing to do thus to put things to my choice ; wherefore at your peril be it if 
you meddle. Then these three, to wit, Wild-head, Inconsiderate, and Pragmatic, drew 
upon me, and I also drew upon them. So we fell to it, one against three, lor the space 
of above three hours. They have left upon me, as you see, some of the marks of their 
valor, and have also carried away with them some of mine. They are but just now 
gone; I suppose they might, as the saying is, hear your horse dash, and so they betook 
themselves to flight. 

Great. But here was great odds, three against one. 

Valiant. 'Tis true ; but little or more are nothing to him that has the truth on his 
side; " Though an host should encamp against me,^' said one, "my heart shall not fear ; 
though war should rise against me, in this I will be confident," etc. Besides, said he, I 
have read in some records that one man has fought an army; and how many did Sam- 
son slay with tho jaw-bone of an ass ! 

Great. The said the guide, Why did you not cry out, that some might have come 
in for your succor? 

Valiant. So I did to my king, who I knew could hear me and afford invisible help, 
and that was sufficient for me. 

Then said Great-heart to Mr. Valiant-for-truth, Thou hast worthily behaved thyself ; 
let me see thy sword. So he showed it him. 

When he had taken it in his hand and looked thereon a while, he said, Ha! it is a 
right Jerusalem blade. 

Valiant. It is so. Let a man have one of these blades, with a hand to wield it and 
skill to use it, and he may venture upon an angel with it. He need not fear its holding 
if he can but tell how to lay it on. Its edge will never blunt. It will cut flesh and 
bones, and soul and spirit, and all. 

Great. But you fought a great while ; I wonder you was not weary. 

Valiant.^ I fought till my sword did cleave to my hand, and then Uiey were joined 
together as if a sword grew out of my arm ; and when the blood ran through my fin- 
gers, then I fought with most courage. 

Great. Thou hast done well ; thou hast resisted unto blood, striving against sin. 
Thou shalt abide by us, come in and go out with us ; for we are thy companions. Then 
they took him and washed his wounds, and gave him of what they had to refresh him; 
and so they went on together. 

Now, as they went on, because Mr. Great-heart was delighted in him (for he loved 
one greatly that ne found to be a man of his hands), and because there were in com- 
pany with them that were feeble and weak, therefore he questioned with him about 
many things; as, first, what countryman he was. 

Valiant. I am of Dark-land ; for there was I born, and there my father and mother 
are stiU. 

Dark'laiid, said the guide ; doth not that lie on the same coast with the city of De- 
struction ? 



120 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Valiant. Yes, it doih. Now, that which caused me td C<)me on pilgi-image was 
this : We had one Mr. Tell-true came into our parts, and he told it about what Christian 
had done, that went from the city of Destruction ; namely, how he had forsaken his 
wife and children, and had betaken himself to a pilgrim's life. It was also confidently 
reported how he had killed a serpent that did come out to resist him in his journey; 
and how he got through to whithc^r he intended. It Avas also told what welcome he 
had at all his Lord's lodgings, especially when he came to the gates of the Celestial 
City ; for tliere, said the man, he was received with sound of trumpet by a company of 
shining ones. He told also how all the bells in the city did ring for joy at his recep- 
tion, and what golden garments he was clothed with, w^ith many other things that now 
1 shall forbear to relate. In a wxn-d, that man so told the story of Christian and his 
travels that my heart fell into a burning haste to be gone after him; nor could father 
or niotlier stay me. So I got from them, and am come thus far on my way. 

Grkat. You came in at the gate, did you not? 

Valiant. Yes, yes; for the "same man also told us that all would be nothing if we 
did not begin to enter tliis way at the gate. 

Look you, said the guide to*^Christiana, the pilgrimage of your husband and what he 
has gotten thereby is spread abroad far and near. 

Valiant. Why, is this Christian's wife? 

Great. Yes, that it is ; and these also are his four sons. 

Valiant. Wluit, and going on pilgrimage too ? 

Great. Yes, verily, they are following after. 

Valiant. It glads me at the heart. Good man, how joyful will he be when he shall 
see them that would not go with him, yet to enter after liim in at the gates into the Ce- 
lestial City. 

Great. Without doubt it will be a comfort to him; for, next to the joy of seeing 
himself there, it will be a joy to meet there his wife and children. 

Valiant. But now you are upon that, pray let me see your opinion about it. 
Some make a question, Avhetber we shall know one another when we are there. 

Great. Do you think they shall know themselves then, or that they shait re- 
joice to see themselves in that bliss? and if they think they shall know and do this, 
why not know others, and rejoice in their welfare also? Again, since relations are our 
second self, though that state Avill be dissolved there, yet why may it not be rationally 
concluded that we shall be more glad to see them there than 'to see they are wanting? 

Valiant. Well, I perceive whereabouts you are as to this. Have you anymore 
things to ask me about my beginning to come on pilgrimage? 

Great. Yes; were your father and mother willing that you should become a pil- 

Valiant. Oh ! no ; they used all means imaginable to persuade me to stay at home. 

Great. Why, what could they say against it? 

Valiant. They said it was an idle life; and if I myself were not inclined to sloth 
and laziness I would never countenance a pilgrim's condition. 

Great. And what did they say else ? 

Valiant. Why, they told me that it was a dangerous way ; yea, the most dangerous 
way in the world, say they, is that which the pilgrims go. 

Great. Did they show you wherein this way is so dangerous ? 

Valiant. Y'es ; and that in many pariculars. 

Great. Name some of them. 

Valiant. They told me of the slough of Despond, where Christian was well nigh 
smothered. They told me that there were archers standing ready in Beelzebub-castle 
to slioot them who should knock at the Wicket-gate for entrance. They told me also 
of the wood and dark mountains; of the hill Dilhculty; of the lions; and also of the 
three giants. Bloody-man, Maul and Slay-good. They said, moreover, that there was a 
foul fiend haunted the valley of Humiliation and that Christian was by him almost be- 
reft of life. Besides, said they, you must go over the valley of the Shadow of Death, 
where the hobgoblins are, where the light is darkness, where the way is full of snares, 
pits, traps and gins. They told me also of Giant Despair, of Doubting-castle, and of 
the ruin that the pilgrims met with here. Further, they said I must go over the En- 
chanted Ground, which was dangerous; and that after all this I should find a river, 
over w ,ich there was no bridge; and that thatri^^r did lie betwixt me and the celes-i 
tial country. 

Great. And was this all? 



I 



THE pilgrim's PKOGRESS. 121 

Valiant. No. They also told me that this way wns full of deceivers and of persons 
that lie in wait there to turn good men out of the path. 

Great. But how did they make that out? 

Valiant. They told me that Mr. Worldly-wiseman did lie there in wait to deceive. 
They said also that there were Formality and Hypocrisy continually on tlie road. They 
said also that By-ends, Talkative or Demas would go near to gather me up ; tliat the 
Flatterer would catch me in his net; or that, with green-headed Ignorance, I would 
presume to go on to the gate, from whence he was sent back to the ho^e that was in the 
side of the hiil, and made to go the by-way to hell. 

Great. I promis* you, this was enough to discourage you; but did they make an 
end there? 

Valiant. No, stay. They told me also of many that had tried that way of old, and 
that had gone a great way therein, to see if they could find something of the glory there 
that so many had so much talked of from time to time, and how they came back again, 
and befooled themselves for setting a foot out of doors in that path, to the satisfaction 
of all the country. And they named several that did so, as Obstinate and Pliable, 
Mistrust and Timorous, Turn-away and old Atheist, with several more; who, they said, 
had some of them gone far to see what they could find, but not one of them had found 
so much advantage by going as amounted to the weight of a feather. 

Great. Said they anything more to discourage you? 

Valiant. Yes. They told me of one Mr. Fearing, who was a pilgrim, and how he 
found his way so solitary that he never had a comfortable hour therein; also that Mr. 
Despondency had liked to have been starved therein ; yea, and also (which I had slmost 
forgot) that Christian himself, about whom there has been such a noise, after ail his ven- 
tures for a celestial crown, was certainly drowned in the Black River, and never went a 
foot further, however it was smothered up. 

Great. And did none of these things discourage you? 

Valiant. No ; they seemed but as so many nothings to me. 

Great. How came that about? 

Valiant. Why, I stiil believed what Mr. Telltruth had said; and that carried me 
beyond them all. 

Great. Then this was your victory, even your faith. 

Valiant. It was so. I believed, and therefore came out, got into the wav, fought 
all that set tUeui«elves against me, and, by believing, am come to this place. 

Who would true valor see, 

Let him come hither ; 
One here will constant be, 

Come wind, come weather; 
There's no discouragement 
Shall make him once relent 
H;s first avow'd intent 

To be a pilgrim. 

Whoso beset him round 

With dismal btoiies, 
Do but themselves confound^ 

His strength the mure is. 
Ko lion can him fright, 
He'll with a giant fight, 
But he will have a right 

To be a pilgrim. 

HoVigoblin nor foul fiend 

Can daunt his spirit; 
He knows he at tue end 

Shall liie inherit. 
Then fancies fly away, 
He'll not fear what men say ; 
He'll labor night and day 

To be a pilgrim. 

By this time they were got to the Enchanted Ground, where the air naturally tended 
to make one drowsy. 

x\nd that place was all grown over with briers and thorns, excepting here and there, 
where was an enchanted arbor, upon which if a man sits, or in which if a man sleeps, it 
is a question some say, whether ever he shall rise or wake again in this world. Over 



122 THE PILGHm'S PKOGRESS. 

this forest therefore they went, both one and another, and Mr. Great-heart went before, 
for that he was the guide; and Mr. Vali an t-for- truth came behind, being rear-guard, for 
fear lest peradventure sornefiend, or dragon, o^ giant, or thief, should fall upon their rear, 
and so do mischief. They went on here, each man with his sword drawn in his hand; 
for they knew it was a dangerous place. Also they cheered up one another as well as 
they could. Feeble-mind, Mr. Great-heart commanded should come up after him; and 
Mr. Despondency was under the eye of Mr. Valiant. 

Now they had not gone far but a great mist and darkness fell upon them all; so that 
they could scarce for a great while see the one the other. Wherefore they were forced, 
for some time, to feel one for another by words; for they walked not by sight. But 
any one must think, that here Avas but sorry going for the best of them all ; but how 
much worse for the women and children, who both of feet and heart were but tender! 
Yet so it was, that throu,<j^h the encouraging words of him that led in the front, and of 
him that brought them up behind, they made a pretty good shift to wag along. 

Tlie way also here Avas very wearisome, through dirt and slabbiness.° Xor was there, 
on all this ground, so much as one inn or victualing-house wherein to refresh the 
feebler sort. Here, therefore, was grunting, and puffing, and sighing, while one 
tumbleth over a bush, another sticks fast in the dirt, and the children, some of them, 
lost their shoes in the mire; while one cries out, I am down; another, Ko, where are 
you? and a third, The bushes have got such fast hold on me I think I cannot get away 
from them. 

Then they came at an arbor, warm, and promising much refreshing to the pikrims ; 
for it was finely wrought above-head, beautified with greens, furnished with benches 
and settles. It also had in it a soft couch, whereon the weary might lean. This, you 
must think, all things considered, was tempting; for the pilgrims^already began to be 
foiled with the badness of the Avay; but there was not one of them that made so 
much as a motion to stop there. Yea, for aught I could perceive, they continually gave 
so good heed to the advice of their gitide, and he did so faithfully tell them of dangers, 
and of the nature of dangers when they were at them, that usually when they were 
nearest to them, they did most pluck up their spirits, and hearten one another to deny 
the flesh. This arbor was called The SlothfuFs Friend, on purpose to allure, if it might 
be, some of the pilgrims there to take up their rest when weary. 

I saw then in my dream that they went on in this their solitary ground, tiU they 
came to a place at which a man is apt to lose his way. Now, though Avhen it was light 
their guide could well enough tell how to miss those ways that led wrong, yet in the 
dark he was put to a stand. But he had in his pocket a map of ail ways lead- 
ing to and from the Celestial City; wherefore he struck a light (for he never goes 
without his tinder-box also), and takes a view of his book or maj), which bids him to be 
careful in that place to turn to the right hand. And, had he not bee-n careful here to 
look in his map, they had all, in probability, been smothered in the mud, for just a 
little before them, and that at the end of the cleanest way too, was a pit, none knows 
how deep, full of nothing but mud, there made on purpose to destroy the pilgrims in. 

Then thought I with myself. Who that goeth on pilgrimage but would have one of 
these maps about him, that he may look when he is at a stand which is the way he must 
take. 

Then they went on in this Enchanted Ground till they came to where there was 
another arbor, and it was built by the highway side. And in that arbor theielay two men, 
whose names were Heedless and Too-bold. These two went thus far on pilgrimage; 
but here,, being wearied with their journey, sat down forest themselves, and so fell 
fast asleep. When the pilgrims saw them, they stood still, and shook their heads, 
for they knew that the sleepers were in a pitiful case. Then they consulted what to do, 
whether to go on and leave them in their sleep, or to step to them and try to awake 
them. So they concluded to go to them and awake them ; that is, if they could ; but 
with this caution, namely, to take heed that they themselves did not sit down, nor em- 
brace the ottered benefit of that arbor. 

So they went in, and spake to the men, and called each by his name, for the guide it 
seems did know them; but there was no voice nor answer. Then the guide did shake 
them, and do w^hat he could to disturb them. Then said one of them, I will pay you 
when I take my money. At which the guide shook his head. I will fight so long as I 
can hold my. sword in my hand, said the other. At that, one of the children laughed. 

Then said Christiana, What is the meaning of this? The guide said, They talk in 
their sleep. If you strike them, beat them, or whatever else you do to them, they will 



THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. 123 

ansn-er you after this fashion; or, as one of them said in old time, when the waves of 
tiie sea did beat npon him, and he slept as one upon the mast of a ship, Wlien I awake, 
I will seek it again. (Prov. xxiii. 34, 35.) You know when men talk in their sleep, 
they say anything, but their words are not governed eitlier by faith or reason. There 
is an incoherency in their words now, as there was before betwixt their going on ])il- 
grimage and sitting down here. This, then is the mischief of it; Avhen heedless ones go 
on jnlgrimage, 'tis twenty to one but they are served thus; for this Enchanted ground is 
one of the last refuges that the enemy to pilgrims has ; wherefore it is, as you see, placed 
jihnost at tlie end of the way, and so it standeth against us with the more advantage. 
For when, tliinks the enemy, will these fools be so desirous to sit down as when they 
are >veary? and when so like to be Aveary as when almost at their journey's end? 
Tlierefore it is, I say, that the Enchanted Ground is placed so nii-h to the hmd Bcuhih, 
and so near the end of their race. Wherefore let pilgrims look to themselves, lest it 
lia})j)en to them as it has done to these that, as you see, are fallen asleep, and none can 
awake them. 

Tiien the pilgrims desired with trembling to go forward; only they prayed their 
guide to strike a light, that they miglit go the rest of their way by the help of the light 
of a lantern. So he struck a light, and they went by tiie help of that through the 
rest of this way, though the darkness was very great. (II. Pet. i. 19.) But the children 
began to be sorely weary, and they cried unto Ilim that loveth pilgrims to make their 
way more comfortable. So by that they had gone a little farther, a wind arose, that 
drove away the fog; so the air became more clear. Yet they were not olf (by much) 
of tlie Enchanted Ground; only now they could see one another better, and the way 
wlierein they should walk. 

Now, when they were almost at the end of this ground, they perceived that alittle be- 
fore them was a solemn noise, as of one that was much concerned. So they went on 
and looked before them; and behold they saw, as they thought, a man upon his knees, 
with hands and eyes lifted up, and speaking, as they thought, earnestly to one that was 
above. They drew nigh, but could not tell what he said; so they went softly till he had 
done. When he had don^e, be got up, and began to run toward the Celestial City. 
Then Mr. Great-heart called after him, saying, So-ho, friend! let us have your company, 
if you go, as I suppose you do, to the Celestial City. So the man stopped, and they 
came up to him. But as soon as Mr. Honest saw him, he said, I know this man. Then 
said Mr. Valiant-for-truth, Pr'^hee, who is it? It is one, said he, that comes from 
whereabout I dwelt. His name is Stand-fast; he is certainly a right good pilgrim. 

So they came up to one another. And i)resently Standfast said to old Honest, Ho, 
father Honest, are you there? Ay, said he, that I am, as sure as you are there. Right 
glad I am, said Mr. Standfast, that 1 have found you on this road. And as glad am I, 
said the other, that I espied you on your knees. Then Mr. Standfast bhished, and said, 
But why, did you see me? Yes, that I did, quoth the other, and with my heart was 
glad at the sight. Why, w^hat did you think? said Standfast. Think! said old Honest; 
what could I think ?^ 1 thought we had an honest man upon the road, and therefore 
should have his company by and by. If you thought not amiss, said Standfast, how- 
happy am I! But if I be not as I should, 'tis I alone must bear it. That is true, said the 
other; but your fear doth further confirm me that things are right betwixt the Prince 
of lulgrims and your soul. For He saith, '' Blessed is the man that fearetli always." 

Vai.iant. Well, btit, brother, I pray thee tell us what was it that was the cause of 
thy being upon thy knees even no\v; was it for that some sjoecial mercy laid obligations 
upon thee, or how ? 

Stand. Why, we are, as ynu see, upon the Enchanted Ground ; and as I was com- 
ing along, I was musing with myself of what a dangerous nature the road in this place 
was, and how many that had come even thus far on pilgrimage had here been stopped 
and been destroyed. I thought also of the manner of the death with which this place 
destroyeth men. Those that die here, die of no violent distemper; the death which 
such die is not grievous to them. For he that goeth away in a sleep begins that jour- 
ney with desire and pleasure. Yea, such acquiesce in the will of that disease. 
Then Mr. Honest interrupting him, said. Did you see the two men asleep in the arbor? 
Stand. Ay, ay, I saw Heedless and Too-bold there; and, for aught I know, there 
they will lie till they rot. (Prov. x. 7.) But let me go on with my tale. As I was thus 
musing, as I said, there was one in very pleasant attire, but old, who presented herself 
to me, and offered me three things; to wit, her body, her purse, and her bed. Now, the 
truth is, I was both weary and sleepy; I am also as poor as an owlet, and that perhaps 



124 THE pilgrim's PROGRESS 

the witch knew. AVell, I repulsed her once and again, but she put hy my repulses and 
smiled. Then I began to be angry; but she mattered that nothing at all. Tlien she 
made offers again, and said that if I would be ruled by her, she would make me great 
and bapi^y; for, said she, I am the mistress of the Avorld, and men are made happy by 
me. Then I asked her name, and she told me it was Madam Bubble. This set me further 
from her; but she still followed me with enticements. Then I betook me, as you 
saAv, to my knees, and with hands lifted up, and cries, I prayed to Him that had said 
he would help. So just as you came up, the gentlewoman went her way. Then I con- 
tinued to give thanks for this my great deliverance; for I verily believe she intended 
no good, but rather sought to make stop of me in my journey. 

HoJs". AVithout doubt her designs were bad. But, stay, now you talk of her, me- 
thinks I either have seen her, or have read some story of her. 

Stand. Perhaps you have done both. 

Hon. Madam Bubble ! Is she not a tall, comely dame, something of a swarthy 
complexion? 

Stand. Eight, you hit it ; she is just such a one. 

Hon. Does she not speak very smoothly, and give you a smile at the end of a sentence ? 

Stand. You fall right upon it again, for th( se are her very actions. 

Hon. Does she not wear a great purse by her side, and is not her hand often in it, 
fingering her money, as if that was her heart's delight? 

Stand. ^Tis just so ; had she stood by all this while, you could not more amply have 
set her forth before me, and have better described her features. 

Hon. Then he that drew her picture was a good limner, and he that wrote of her 
said true. 

Great. This woman is a witch, and it is by virtue of her sorceries that this ground 
is enchanted. Whoever doth lay his head down in her lap had as good lay it down on 
that block over which the axe doth hang; and whoever lay their eves upon her beauty 
are counted tile enemies of God. (James iv. 4; I. John ii. 14, 15.) This is she that 
maintaineth in their splendor all those that are the enemies of pilgrims. Yea, this is 
she that hath bought off many a man from a x^ilgrim's life. She is a great gossiper; she 
is always, both she and her daughters, at one pilgrim's heels or another, now commend- 
ing, and then preferring the excellencies of this life. She is a bold and impudent siut ; 
she will talk v/ith any man. She always laugheth poor pilgrims to scorn, but highly 
coiiimt-nds the rich. If there be one cunning to get money in a place, she will speak 
well of ]um from house to house. She loveth banqueting and feasting mainly well; 
she is always at one full table or another. She has given it out in some places that she 
is a goddess, and therefore some do worship her. She has her time, and open places of 
cheating; and she will say and avow it, that none can show a good comparable to hers. 
She promiseth to dwell with children's children if they Avill but love her and make 
much of her. She will cast out of her purse gold like dust in some places and to some 
persons. She loves to be sought after, spoken well of, and to lie in the bosoms of men. 
She is never weary of commending her commodities, and she loves them most that 
think best of her. She will promise to some crowns and kingdoms if they will but 
take her advice ; yet many hath she brought to the halter, and ten thousand times more 
to hell. 

Stand. Oh. said Standfast, what a mercy it is that I did resist her, for whither might 
she liave drawn me ! 

Great. Whitlier! nay, none but God knows whither. But in general, to be sure, 
she would have drav/n tliee into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in 
destruction and perdition. (I. Tim. vi. 9.) 'Twas she tliat set Al.salom against his 
father, and Jeroboam against his master. 'Twas she that persuaded Judas to sell his 
Lord, and that prevailed with Demas to forsake the godly pilgrim's life. None can tell 
of the mischief that she doth. She makes variance betwixt rulers and subjects, betwixt 
parents and children, betwixt neighbor and neighbor, betwixt a man j;nd his wife, be- 
twixt a man and himself, betwixt the flesh and the spirit. Wherelore, good Mr. Stand- 
fast, be as your name is; and when you have done all, stand. 

At tills discourse tiiere was among the pilgrims a mixture of joy and trembling; but 
at length they broke out and sang: 

What dnnger is the pilcrim in I 

liow many are h s f o s ! 
How many ways tiic:e arc to sin 

iSo living mortal knows I 



THE pilgrim's PR0GR3SS. ^^ 

Some in the ditch are spoiled, yea, can 

Lie tumbling in the mire : 
Some, thougii they shun the frying-pan, 

Do leap into the fire. 

After this, I beheld until they were come into the land of Benlah, where the snn 
shineth night and day. Here, because they were weary, they betook themselves a 
\vhiJe to rest. And because this country was common for pilgrims, and because the or- 
chards and vineyards that were here belonged to the King of the Celestial Country, 
therefore they were licensed to make bold with any of his th ngs. But a little while 
soon refreshed them here; for the bells did so ring, and the trumpets continually sound 
so melodiously, that they could not sleep, and yet they received as much refreshing as 
if they slept their sleep never so soundly. Here also all the noise of them that walked 
the streets was, More pilgrims are cometo town! And another would answer, saying, 
And so many went over the water, and were let in at the golden gates to-day! They 
would cry again. There is now a legion of shining ones just come to town, by which 
we know that there are more pilgrims upon the road; for here they come to wait for 
them, and to comfort them after all their sorrow! Then the pilgrims got up, and 
walked to and fro. But how were their ears now filled with heavenly noises, and their 
eyes delighted with celestial visions! In this land they heard nothing, saw nothimr, 
felt nothing, smelt nothing, tasted nothing, that was offensive to their stomach or mind; 
only when they tasted of th'e water of the river over which they were to go, they 
thought that it tasted a little bitterish to the palate; but it proved sweeter when it was down. 

In this place there was a record kept of the names of them that had been pilgrims of 
old, and a history of all the famous acts they had done. It was here also much dis- 
coursed, how the river to some had had its flo wings, and wha ebbings it has had while 
others have gone over. It has been in a manner dry for some, while it has overflowed 
its banks for others. 

In this place the childj;^n of the toAvn would go into the King's gardens, and gather 
nosegays for the pilgrims, htid bring them to them with much alfection. Here also 
grew camphire, with spikenard and s liron, calamus, and cinnamon, with all the trees 
of frankincense, myrrn, aloes, with all chief spices. With these the pilgrims' cham- 
bers were perUiined while they stayed here ; and with these were their bodies anointed, 
to prepare them to go over the riv«i' when the time appointed was come. 

Now, While they lay here, and waited for the good hour, there was a noise in the town 
that there was a post come from the Cele tial City, with matter of great importance to 
one Christiana, the wife of Chrstian the pilgrim. So inquiry was made for her, and 
the house was found out where she was. So the post presented her with a letter. The 
contents were. Hail, good woman; I bring thee tidings that the Master calleth for thee, 
and expecteth that thou shouldst stand in his presence, in clothes of immortality, with- 
in these ten days. 

AVhen he ha i read this letter to her, he gave her therewith a sure token that he was a 
true messenger, and was come to bid her to make haste to be gone. Tlie token was, an 
arrow with a point sharpened with love, let easily into her heart, which by degrees 
wrought feo effectually with her, that at the time appointed she must be gone. 

Wiien Cnristiana saw that her time was come, and that she was the first of this com- 
pany that was to go over, she called for Mr. Great-heart her guide, and told him how 
matters were. So he told her he was heartily glad of the news, and could have been 
glad had the post come for him. Then she bid liim that he should give advice how ail 
things should be prepaiea for her journey. So he told her, saying, Thus and thus it 
must be, and we that survive wid accompany you to the river sale. 

Then she called for her children, and gave them her blessing, and told them that she 
had read with comfort the mark that was set in their foreheads, and was glad to see 
them with her ther^, and that they had kept their garments so white. Lastly, she be- 
queatned to the poor that little she had, and commanded her sons and daugaters to be 
ready ag.dnst the messenger should come for them. 

W en she had spoken these woi'ds to her guide, and to her children, she called for 
Mr. Valiant-f r-truth, and said unto him. Sir, you have in all places showed yourself 
true-hearted; be faithful unto death, and my King will give you a crown of life. I 
would also entreat you to have an eye to my children, and if at any time you see them 
faint, speak comfortaoly to them. For my daugliters — my sons' wives — they have been 
faithful, and a tultiiling of the promise upon them will be their end. But she gave Mr. 
Standfast a ring. 



126 THE pilgrim's PKOGRESS. 

Then she called for old Mr. Honest, and said of him, "Behold an Israelite, indeed, in 
vvhom is no guile." . Then said he, I wish you a fair day when you set out for Mt. Sion, ' 
and shall be glad to see that you go over the river dryshod. But she answered, Come 
wet, come dry, I long to be gone; for however the weather is in my journey, I shall 
have time enough when I come there to sit down and rest me and dry me. 

Then came in that good man Mr. Beady-to-halt, to see her. So she said to him. Thy 
travel hitherto has been with difficulty, but that will make thy rest the sweeter. But 
watch, and be ready; for at an hour when ye think not, the messenger may come. 

After him came Mr. Despondency and his daughter Much-afraid, to whom she said. 
You ought with thankfulness for ever to remember your deliverance from the hands of 
(riant Despair, and out of Doubting Castle. The effect of that mercy is, that you are 
brought with safety hither. Be ye watchful, and cast away fear; be sober, and hope to 
the end. 

Then she said to Mr. Feeble-mind, Thou wast delivered from the mouth of Giant Slay- 
good, that thou mightest live in the light of the living, and see thy King with comfort. 
Only I advise thee to repent of thine aptness to fear and doubt of his goodness, before 
he sends for thee ; lest thou shouldst, when he comes, be forced to stand before him 
for that fault, with blushing. 

Now the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. So the road was fnll of people 
to see her take her journey. But, behold, all the banks beyond the river were 
full of horses and chariots, which were come down from above to accompany her to the 
city gat^. So she came forth, and entered the river, with a beckon of farewell to those 
that followed her. The last words that she was heard to say were, I come. Lord, to be 
with thee and bless thee! So her children and friends returned to their place, for 
those that waited for Christiana hnd carried her out of their sight. So she went and 
called, and entered in at the gate with all tiie ceremonies of joy that her husband 
Christian had entered with before her. At her departure the children wept. But 
Mr. Great-heart and Mr. Valiant played upon the weL-tuned cymbal and liarp for joy. 
So all departed to their respective placca. 

In process of time, there came a post to the town again, and his business Avas with 
Mr. Eeadv-to-halt. So he inquired him out, and said, 1 am come from llim whom 
thou hast loved and followed, though upon crutches; and my message is to tell thee, 
that he expects thee at his table to sup with him in his kingdom, the next day after 
Easter* wherefore prepare thyself for this journey. Then he also gave him a token 
that he was a true messenger, saying, "I have broken thy golden bowl, and loosed thy 
silver cord.'^ (Eccles. xii. 6.) 

After this, Mr. Ready-to-halt called for his fellow-pilgrims, and told them, saying, I 
nm sent for, and God shall surely visit you also. So he desired Mr. Valiant to make his 
will. And because he had nothins: to beqtieath to them that should survive him but 
his crutches and his good wishes, therefore thus he said. These crutches I bequeath to 
mv son that shall tread in my steps, with an hundred warm wishes that he may prove 
beUer than I have been. Then he thanked Mr. Great-heart for his conduct and kind- 
ness and so addressed himself to his journey. When he came to the brink of the 
liver he said. Now I shall have no more need of these crutches, since yonder are chari- 
ots and horses for me to ride on. The last Avords he was heard to say were. Welcome 
life! So he went his way! 

After this, Mr. Feeble-mind had tidings brought liim that the post sounded his horn 
at his chamber-door. Then he came in, and told him, saying, I am come to tell thee 
that thy Master hath need of thee, and that in a very little time thou must behold his 
face in brightness. And take this as a token of the truth of my message: "Those that 
look out at the windows shall be darkened." Then Mr. Feeble-mind called for his 
friends, and told them what errand had been brougiit unto him, and what token he had 
received of tiie truth of the message. Then he said, Since I have nothing to bequeath 
to any, to what«purpose should I make a will? As for my feeble mind, that I will leave 
behind me, for that I shall have no need of in the place whither 1 go, nor is it worth 
bestowing upon the poorest pilgrims; wherefore, when I am gone, I desire that you, 
Mr. Valia^nt- would bury it in a dunghill. This done, and the day being come on which 
he was to depart, ne entered the river as the rest. His last words w ere. Hold out, faith 
and patience ! So he went over to the other side. 

When days had many of them passed away, Mr. Despondency was sent for; for a 
post was come, and brought this message to him : Trembling man ! these are to summon 
thee to be ready with the King by the next Lord's-day, to shout for joy for thy deliver- 



THE pilgrim's PROGRESS. 127 

ance from all thy doubtings. And, said the messenger, that my message is true, take 
this k>r a proof; so he gave him a grasshopper, to be i burden unto him. (Eocles. 
xii. 5.) 

Now, Mr. Despondency's dauo^hter, whose name was Much-afraid, said, when sht 
heard what was done, that she would go with her father. Then Mr. Despondency said to 
his friends, Myself and daughter you know what we have been, and how troublesomelv 
we have behaved ourselves in every company. My will and my daughter's is, that our 
desponds and slavish fears be by no man ever received, from the day of our departure, 
for ever; for I know that after my death they will offer themselves to others. For to be 
plain with you, they are ghosts Avhich we entertained when we first be^an to be pil- 
grims, and could never shake them off after; and they will walk about, and seek enter- 
tainment of the pilgrims; but for our sakes, shut the doors upon them. When the 
time was come for them to depart, they went up to the brink of the river. Tlie last 
words of Mr. Despondency were, Farewell night; welcome day! His daughter went 
through the river singing, but none could understand what she said. 

Then it came to pass a while after, that there was a post in the town that inquired 
for Mr. Honest. So he came to the house where he was, and delivered to his hand 
these lines: Thou art commanded to be ready against this day seveunight, to present 
thyself before thy Lord, at his Father's house. Ar.d for a token tliat my message is 
true, "All the dauQ-hters of music shall be brought low.'' (Eccles. xii. 4.) Then Mr. 
Honest called for his friends, and said unto them, I die, but shall make no will. As 
for my honesty, it shall go with me; let him that comes after be told of this. When the 
day that he was to be gone was come, he addressed himself to go over the river. Now, 
the river at tliat time overflowed its banks in some places; but Mr. Honest in his life- 
time had spoken to one Good-conscience to meet him there, the which he also did, and 
lent him his hand, and so helped him over. The last words of Mr. Honest were, Grace 
reigns! So he left the world. 

After this it was noised abroad that Mr. Valiant-for-truth was taken with a summons 
by the same post as the other, and had this for a token that the summons was true, 
'' That his pitcher was broken at the fountain." (Eccles. xii. 6.) When he understood 
it he called for his friends and told them of it. Then said he, I am going to my Fath- 
er's ; and though with great difficulty I have got hiiher, yet now I do not repent me of 
all the trouble I have been at to arrive where i am. My sword I give to him that shall 
succeed me in my pilgrimage, and my courage and skill to him that can get it. My 
marks and scars I carry with me to be a witness for me that I have fought His battles 
who now will be my rewarder. AVhen the day that he must go hence was come, many 
accompanied him to ihe river-side, into which as he went he said, *' Death, where is thy 
sting?" And as he went down deeper, he said, " Grave, where is thy victory?" So he 
passed over, and ail the trumpets sounded for him on the other side. 

Then there came forth a summons for Mr. Stand-fast. This Mr. Stand-fast was he 
that the rest of the pilgrims found upon his knees in the Enchanted Ground. And the 
post brought it him open in his hands; the contents thereof were, that he must prepare 
for a change of life, for his Master was not willing that he should be so far from him 
any longer. At this Mr. Stand-fast was put into a muse. Nay, said the messenger, you 
lieednot doubt of the truth of my message, for here is a token of the truth thereof. 
"Thy wheel is broken at the cistern." Then he called to him Mr. Great-heart, who was their 
guide, and said unto him. Sir, although it was not my hap to be much in your good 
company during the days of my pilgrimage, yet, since the time I khew you, you have 
bee» profitable to me. When I came from home I left behind me a wife and five small 
children, let me entreat you at your return (tor I know that you go and return to your 
Master's house in hopes that you may yet be a conductor to more of the holy pilgrims), 
that you send to my family and let them be acquainted with all that hath and shall 
happen unto me. Tell them moreover of my happy arrival at this place, and of the 
present and late blessed condition I am in. Tell them also of Christian and Christiana 
his wife, and how she and her children came after husband. Tell them also of what a 
happy end she made, and whither she is gone ; I have little or nothing to send to my 
family, unless it be prayers and tears for them; of which it will suffice that you ac- 
quaint them, if peradve-nture they may prevail. When Mr. Stand-fast had thus set 
things in order, and the time being come for him to haste him away, he also went down 
to the river. Now, there was a great calm at that time in the river; wherefore Mr. 
Stand-fast, when he was about half way in, stood a while and talked with his companions 
that had waited upon him thither. And he said, This river has been a terror to many ; 



i2S THE PILGKIM'S PBOGRESS. 

yea, the thoughts of it also have often frightened me, but now methinks I stand easy; 
my foot is fixed upon that on which the feet of the priests that bare the ark of the cov- 
enant stood while Israel went over Jordan. (Josh. iii. 17.) The waters indeed are to 
the palate bitter, and to the stomach cold; yet the thoughts of what I am going to, and 
01 the conduct that waits for me on the other side, doth lie as a glowing coal at my 
heart. I see myself now at the end of my journey; my toilsome days are ended. I am 
going to see that head that was crowned' with thorns, and that face that was spit upon 
for me. I have formerly lived by hearsay and faith ; but now I go where I shall live by 
sight, and shall be with Him in whose company I delight myself. 1 have loved to hear my 
Lord spoken of ; and wherever I have seen the print of his shoe in the earth, there I 
iiave coveted to set my foot too. His name has been to me as a civet-box ; yea, sweet- 
er than all perfumes. His voice tome has been most sweet; and his countenance I 
have more desired than they that have most desired the lioht of the sun. His words I 
did use to gather for my food,, and for antidotes against my faintings. He has held me, 
and hath kept me from mine iniquities; yea, my steps hath he strengthened in his way. 

K w, while he was thus in discourse his countenance changed; his strongman bowed 
under liim ; and aiter he had said. Take me, for I come unto thee, he ceased to be seen 
of them. 

But glorious it was to see how the open region was filled with horses and chariots, 
with trumpeters and pipers, with singers and players upon strinsied instruments to wel- 
come the pilgrims as they went up, and followed one another in at the beautiful gate of 
liie city. 

As for Christiana's children, the four boys that Christiana brought, with their wives 
and children, I did not stay where I was till they were gone over. Also, since I came 
away, I heard one say that they were yet alive, and so would be for the increase of the 
church in that place where they were, for a time. 

Should it be my lot to go that way again I may give those that desire it an account of 
what I here am silent about. Mv^antime I bid my reader tisMt*^.,^. 

FArvEWEIJ* 



NEW LIST OF BOOKS! 
$1 TO $3 BOOKS FOR 25 CENTS EACH. 

TESMS OF SUESCEIPTIOIT TO TEE FABM AND FIBESIDE LIBEABY; 
One Year, . _ _ - . . $3.cxd 

Single Copy, -------25 Cents. 

For 25 Cenls a Copy of any Book in this List will be Sent by Mail, Postpaid. 

Book No. 11. Secrets of ProcressiTe Agriculture. Being reports of a course of lec- 
tures on Agriculture delivered by the Faculty of the Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio, 
consisting of President Ortoa, Prof. N. S. Townshend, Prof. Albert H. Tuttle, Prof. Robin- 
son and others, and embraces about forty lectures. A desirable book for farmers. 

Book No. 12. Swiss Family Robinson. Or the adventures of a father, his wife and 
four sons on a Desert Island. Tiiis compa nion volume to Kobinson Crusoe is equal in 
intense interest and popularity. It is the story of a Swiss family consisting of a father, 
his wife and four sons who were deserted by the cowardly action of a captain and his sailors, 
and left upon a storm-tossed vessel, of their mir aculous escape from death, of their life and 
adventures upon a desert island for many years, and of their deliverance by a British vessel. 

Book No. 13. Household Picture Book. A selection of stories and pictures for every 

, member of the family. No such handsome book for the household has ever been offered. 
It is crowded with just such short stories that mothers enjoy reading to children, and chil- 
dren delight to hear, and just such pictures that please and amuse. The pictures are finely 
executed, and cost between two and three thousand dollars to engrave. 

B >ok No. 14. Cast Up by the Sea. By Sir Samuel W Baker. An intensely interesting 
book, whose hero, when an infant child, was cast up by the sea from a shipwrecked vessel on 
the coast of Cornwallj Englaad. This wonderful story is too well known to need more than 
an allusion to it. Its interest is sustained from first to last. 

Bo»!<: No. 1.5. Life and Times of Garfield. A truthful record of the life of our late 
President, containing his life from boyhood to his death. This history contains many in- 
teresting incideurs not heretofore published, and is by far the most desirable history of this 
great man published. Should be read by every American citizen. 

Biak No. 16. The Complete Poultry Book. Tegetmeier's Improved. For many years 
Tegetmeier's Poultry Book has been the standard, but its price, which is nine dollars, has 
placed it beyond the reach of most people. We have improved this great book, and repro- 
duce it in this form so that the masses can now get it for almost nothing. It suits at once 
the plain poulterer, who must make the business pay, and the chicken fancier whose taste 
18 for gay plumage and strange, bright birds. 

Book No. IT. In Dior and Out, A complete book of amusements. This book affords 
an almost .inexhaustible fund of am usements for evening parties, social gatherings, and 
all festive occasions, and healthful recreations for out-door sports of every description, 
with chapters on ball playing, swim ming, etc., and is, wo believe, the only book of amuse- 
ments with a chapter devoted to the healthy and invigorating sport of Bicycle riding. 

Book No. IS. Genteel Planners. A complete hand book of behavior. This book is de- 
signed to offer such suggestions as will be valuable to those just entering society, to those 
who desire to understand good breeding, the customs of good society, and to avoid incorrect 
and vulgar habits. Invaluable to the young man or young lady just entering society. 

^^u*.'' i^»' I?' The F;imily Doctor Book. A practical treatise for the use of fanrlies. 
Ihis IS not intended to take the place of a doctor, but to convey a better knowledge of the 
human system to the people. This book will first take up the subiect of our body, then of 
our ditrerent organs, then the preservation of our health, and then the common diseases, 
giving the causes which produce them fso far as known), their symptoms and their treat- 
ment by hygienic means, combined with a proper use of medicine. 

^?^^ ^?'i?^' J^^^^y Hors'* Book. A complete manual for horsemen, embracing How 
to Breed, Buy, Train, Use, Feed, Drive, and How to Ride a Horse. It also gives the symp- 
toms, causes and cures of all known horse diseases. No one who owns or jases a horse 
should fail to have a copy of this book. 

The usual price of these books is from ^1.00 to ^9.00 each, and have been considered luxu- 
ries, when they ought to be considered neccessities, and the masses will buy books if prices 
are placed within reach. We offer the best books known, at a very low price, to allow every 
person to provide themselves with good books. 

EIGHT OF OUIl BOOKS are entirely new. written for us, and our own copyright. 

THE PAGES are about 5J4 by 8 inches, except the Household Picture Book, which is 
double the size. 

THE TYPE is Minion, easy on the eyes. THE PAPER is of a beautiful white color. 

Address FARM AND FIRESIDE COMPANY, Springfield, Ohio. 



.^ 



^ By subscribing to the Farm and Fireside Library you can obtain 

i I TO 3 DOLLAR BOOKS FOR 25 GENTS EACH. 

I TEEMS or SUBSCEIPTION TO THE FARM AND FIRESIDE LIBEAEY: 

i One Year, - - - $3.00. 

^ Single Copy, ---- ---25 Cents. 

<>• Invariably in Advance. ^, 

<^ < 

t ^ 

I FOE 25 CENT3, A COPY OF ANY BOOS IN THIS LIST WILL BE SENT BY MAIL, POSTPAID. t 

<>^ Book No. I. Life aid Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. This well-known book may be 
<^ ranked as the m >s[ popular standard juvenile book ever printed. Our edition is complete 
<^ in one vol. Fully illustrated. 

<^ Book No. 2. The Pilgrim's Progress from this world to that which is to come. Thisre- 
A markable book, as every one knows, was written under the similitude of a dream, by John 
X Bunyan, the most popuLir religious writer in the English language ; and perhaps more 
T copies have been sold than any other book except the Bible. Our edition is complete and 
T unabridged, with appropriate illustrations. 

I Book No. 3. Ne^ Farm and Fireside Cook Book. ONE OF THE BEST COOK BOOKS 
T EVER PJBLISHED. Cuatains about l.uuu Kecipes. It is just the book that every wile and 
housekeeper needs. It tells how to cook all kinds of bread, cakes, and meats ; it tells how 
to make all kinds of soup; it gives recipes for cooking tish, oysters, poultry and game ; it 
tells how to select the best poultry, fish, meats, eic; it gives the best methods ot preparing 
sauces and salads and all kinds of vegetables for the table: and tells the housekeeper all 
she needs to know about bread, biscuits, rolls, puddings, pies, custards, creams, cookies, tea, 
cotiee, chocolate, home-made candies, antidote for poison, cooking for the sick, and many 
other useful things. 
Book No. 4. Saved at Last from Among the Mormons. Every man and woman in the 
land should read this story, which is founded upon facts, and gives an insight into the low 
estate of woman under the Mormon rule. 
Book No. 5. Gulliver's Travels. This book tells of the supposed travels and surprising 
adventures of Lemuel Gulliver into several remote regions of the world, where he met with 
a race of people no larger than your hand. Also his wonderful exploits among giants. Com- 
plete in one volume. Finely illustrated. 
Book No. 6. Bread and Cheese and Kisses. By B. L. Farjeon. A very popular Christmas 
story after the style of Dickens ; abounds in excellent and novel features. Complete in one 
voltime, with illustrations. 
Book No. 7. The Arabian Nights' Entertainments. Illustrated with numerous wood en- 
gravings, descriptive of those many strange and singular stories which the legend says the 
Sultaness of Persia related to the Sultan night after night, in order to prolong her life, and 
thus finally won his affections and delivered the many virgins, who but for her would 
have been sacrificed to his unjust resentment. 
Book No. 8. /Esops's Fables. The Fables of .Esopus, an apt representative of the great social 
and intellectual movement of the age which he adorned. Born a slave, he forced his 
way by his mother-wit into the courts of princes. In one vol. Very profusely illustrated. 
Book No. 9. John Ploughman's Pictures ; or, More of his Plain Talk for Plain People, by 
Rev. Chas. H. Spurgeon. This book is exceedingly humorous and instructive, usinti the 
simplest form of words and very plain speech. To smite evil, and especially the monster 
evil of drink, has been the author's earnest endeavor. Complete in one volume— contain- 
ing a great number of pictures. 
Book No. 10. Noble Deeds of Men and Women. A history and description of noble deeds, 
presenting correct and beautiful models of noble life to awaken the impulse to imitate what 
we admire. By the recorded acts of the great and good we regulate our own course, and 
stear, star-guided, over life's trackless ocean. 

The usual price of these books bound in cloth is SI 00 to S3.00 each. We bind thera in heavy 
p iper, and send them by mail and prepay the postage. They conipri-e a wide range and 
striking diversity of the most brilliant and ple;ising productions of the most noted and 
p >piilar authors, and include books of travels, adventures, fiction and humor, so that all 
tastes will be suite 1. We call it the Farm and Fireside Library, and any one obtaining 
these books will possess a library of the most popular books ever pui'Hshed. We have not 
room to give an exteded description of each book, but all will be delighted who obtain these 

I noted books at so ow a price. 

A, THE BOOKS ar^ the latest and most complete editions, and contain many illustrations 

I one alone requiring fifty pictures to complete it. 

^ MONEY should be sent by Post-office Money Order or Pegistored Letter, addressed to 

t . FARM AND FIRESIDE COMPANY, Springfield, Ohio. 



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